I was so jealous of my friends. They got to breeze around in those cool little ankle socks, while I was stuck with a mom who firmly believed knee‑highs were the only socks ever invented. I can still feel myself tugging them up every five minutes as they slowly slouched toward my sneakers. And on hot days, those things felt like wearing tiny wool ovens on my legs — pure childhood misery wrapped in cotton. 🥵🧦
