Badesokker
I’m sure that to most people that word will mean absolutely nothing. To some it will mean nothing cause it’s in Norwegian, to those who understand Norwegian it still won’t mean much.
Let me explain. This blog entry will be a sort of confession. And an embarrassing story about my younger years.
When I was a freshman in lycée (the equivalent of high school) I stayed in the dorm of the school, and one of my closest friends that year, and also my room-mate (one of several room-mates actually), was a Norwegian girl called Heidi. Great girl, so much fun to hang out with, great party-buddy and she was great company on those days when we decided sleeping in the nurse’s office was better than doing gymnastics in PE class. Unfortunately we’ve lost contact since, but maybe now with the wonders of the internet… and of course this new-fangled invention called a phone book, I could look her up. Anyway, I digress.
Once during a conversation for some reason we started talking about feet. Personally I don’t find feet in general particularly attractive. They’re very useful and I’m glad I have mine, but the whole erotic aspect of feet has always eluded me. Heidi however took this dislike of feet to a whole other level. She started to tell me that her entire family suffered from a phobia of feet. They found feet so revolting that when they were all at their summer house by the sea they would all wear “badesokker” or “bathing socks” to go swimming, or even while sunbathing to cover up their feet. Now I didn’t believe her… at first. But she was so convincing, and every question or exclamation of “I don’t believe you!” I uttered, she had a good answer or a compelling argument as rebuttal. She even went as far as telling me that she had seen a therapist to get over this crippling ailment.
After days of convincing me that she was telling the truth, I believed her. I figured maybe there existed some mental illness that I’d never heard of and being the accepting and frankly gullible individual that I was I took her word for it. And of course that’s when she could no longer hold it together, and she cracked up admitting it was all a big joke. And hence the term “badesokker” was born. If you’re gullible enough to buy something so improbable that it defies comprehension, or something that is plainly obvious, then you’ve been the victim of a badesokk.
I’ve been the victim of quite a few of them when I was younger, in particular from my sister and my friend Bjoern-Erik. I wish I could say I had managed to pull one or two on someone else, but apparently my pokerface is non-existant. My sister’s friend Hilde is probably one of the rare people I know who will fall for “badesokker” I wouldn’t even buy. I’ll give you an example… My sister told us both that her boyfriend’s penis was so big that if he became erect he passed out, and he was medicated to prevent this from happening. Hilde bought it, hook, line and sinker. An interview on TV with a singer who was clearly completely high, Hilde thought maybe the singer had a cold. Gotta love her.
In recent years I haven’t fallen for any little games of this kind, not that I know of anyway. Whether I’ve become more cynical or people are just showing more restraint as they get older I don’t know. I kind of hope it’s the latter, because while being gullible isn’t the greatest trait to possess, I think trusting in people is. And I still want to believe that the vast majority of people are good and trustworthy. Cynicism is not something to be envied and I hope I’m not there yet. I wonder if Hilde has kept her bright-eyed innocence and trust. I certainly hope so. Maybe I should test her next time I see her. (insert evil grin here)
(Jan 7, 2006)
Let me explain. This blog entry will be a sort of confession. And an embarrassing story about my younger years.
When I was a freshman in lycée (the equivalent of high school) I stayed in the dorm of the school, and one of my closest friends that year, and also my room-mate (one of several room-mates actually), was a Norwegian girl called Heidi. Great girl, so much fun to hang out with, great party-buddy and she was great company on those days when we decided sleeping in the nurse’s office was better than doing gymnastics in PE class. Unfortunately we’ve lost contact since, but maybe now with the wonders of the internet… and of course this new-fangled invention called a phone book, I could look her up. Anyway, I digress.
Once during a conversation for some reason we started talking about feet. Personally I don’t find feet in general particularly attractive. They’re very useful and I’m glad I have mine, but the whole erotic aspect of feet has always eluded me. Heidi however took this dislike of feet to a whole other level. She started to tell me that her entire family suffered from a phobia of feet. They found feet so revolting that when they were all at their summer house by the sea they would all wear “badesokker” or “bathing socks” to go swimming, or even while sunbathing to cover up their feet. Now I didn’t believe her… at first. But she was so convincing, and every question or exclamation of “I don’t believe you!” I uttered, she had a good answer or a compelling argument as rebuttal. She even went as far as telling me that she had seen a therapist to get over this crippling ailment.
After days of convincing me that she was telling the truth, I believed her. I figured maybe there existed some mental illness that I’d never heard of and being the accepting and frankly gullible individual that I was I took her word for it. And of course that’s when she could no longer hold it together, and she cracked up admitting it was all a big joke. And hence the term “badesokker” was born. If you’re gullible enough to buy something so improbable that it defies comprehension, or something that is plainly obvious, then you’ve been the victim of a badesokk.
I’ve been the victim of quite a few of them when I was younger, in particular from my sister and my friend Bjoern-Erik. I wish I could say I had managed to pull one or two on someone else, but apparently my pokerface is non-existant. My sister’s friend Hilde is probably one of the rare people I know who will fall for “badesokker” I wouldn’t even buy. I’ll give you an example… My sister told us both that her boyfriend’s penis was so big that if he became erect he passed out, and he was medicated to prevent this from happening. Hilde bought it, hook, line and sinker. An interview on TV with a singer who was clearly completely high, Hilde thought maybe the singer had a cold. Gotta love her.
In recent years I haven’t fallen for any little games of this kind, not that I know of anyway. Whether I’ve become more cynical or people are just showing more restraint as they get older I don’t know. I kind of hope it’s the latter, because while being gullible isn’t the greatest trait to possess, I think trusting in people is. And I still want to believe that the vast majority of people are good and trustworthy. Cynicism is not something to be envied and I hope I’m not there yet. I wonder if Hilde has kept her bright-eyed innocence and trust. I certainly hope so. Maybe I should test her next time I see her. (insert evil grin here)
(Jan 7, 2006)
posted by Annette at 7:44 PM
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