DAY 9: The Runt

"Get that tub down here, Bobby."  Bobby's mom had positioned her in her familiar dip in the couch, sculpted from years of occupancy.  From her seat of power, she intended to direct Bobby as he retrieved tub after tub of old clothes.  Mother was insistent that among the retired belongings of Bobby's older siblings, there would be some perennial - or, at least, recurring- fashions that he could wear for his entry into sixth grade.  In a household bearing five children, this was a necessary skill.

Bobby brought the first tub to his mother's feet.  Ricky was the closest to Bobby's age, just 5 years older.  If he had been home, Ricky would have been hauling tubs, as well; instead, he was at tryouts, defending his lineman position.  The majority of the clothes bore Ricky's battle damage; only the school uniforms and some Fubu shirts were sufficiently well-kept enough for passing on.  Bobby slipped a blue polo easily over his own clothes - too easily.  "That was the fashion, Bobby.  Take that off, and let's get the next one."

The next tub had clothes from Ernest's school days.  He was, in fact, the one who had helped Mom first organize these clothes when they became an issue; the young man had turned the chore into a school project, one that presaged his current pursuit of a business management degree.  In testament to his character, Ernest's clothes were well-preserved, practically ready for retail display.  Only the labeled tags betrayed their previously-worn status.
Mom unfurled a school polo with a crisp snap, and tossed it to Bobby.  This shirt also slid too easily over Bobby's form, camoflaging it.  "Check the year on that, Bobby.  I think we got his older shirts."  Bobby looked at Ernest's writing within the label, which dated the shirt to Ernest's sixth grade.

The tubs continued.  Bobby managed to bring down one of Kayla's tubs.  She had discovered dresses late in high school; her middle school tubs might have something passable for Bobby.  Alas, her uniforms fit almost as loosely as the brothers; when Mom reclosed the lid, Bobby breathed a sigh of relief.

They had cleared half the closet before they found clothes that belonged to Bobby's oldest brother, Dale.  Bobby went straight for the Pinky and the Brain t-shirt, studying it.  "He got to wear this to class?"
"It was before they went with school uniforms," Mom replied.  Bobby was hidden from her, behind the outstretched shirt.  But Mom could see that her youngest was growing in a very different direction than her other children.  Simply inheriting his siblings' trappings was not going to be sufficient.

"Bobby, get my thread box and scissors..."


inspired by Discover Magazine article "Childhood Obesity Reversed"