Dora Skirt to the Rescue A skirt story by Den_ay
Julie hitched her purse up her shoulder, the rough strap biting into her sweaty skin.
With a grunt, she took a moment to pause and adjust the purse even more while the tour guide was gesturing to a sprawling plant beside him. Julie knew the gist of what he was saying—something about how to identify which plants in the jungle were safe or poisonous—but she barely paid attention to him right then.
Actually, she’d hardly listened to him at all.
The thousand-pound weight on her shoulder wouldn’t let her!
Again and again she shifted her purse’s strap, determined to find a more comfortable position. She even took it off and switched it to her other shoulder, causing a bit of a rustle that the other tourists heard. They glanced over at her, visibly annoyed. Even the tour guide, a portly man in way-too-big khaki shorts (they practically grazed the ground!) eyed her with disdain.
Julie had a feeling his annoyance might have to do with the fact that every time he said something on this little safari, Julie moved her purse around so that the items inside jostled noisily, too noisily for his little tour guide spiel to be heard.
But she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t her fault the bag was so uncomfortable. Part of it was the jungle’s fault! If it wasn’t so hot, she wouldn’t be so sweaty and bothered. The heat was practically brain-melting. Hotter than record highs in her southwestern town ever got. If it were only ten or fifteen degrees cooler, she might have been able to handle the weight of her purse better.
Not now. Not in the eighty-thousand degree jungle.
Julie looked around at her tour group peers, noticing how lightly they’d traveled. The majority of the men and women there didn’t carry any bags at all, and only a few had fanny packs strapped around their waists. To Julie, this was a true marvel, almost as shocking as the nature around her. She didn’t understand how people could vacation without having a dozen things to pack. Julie’s own bag was filled with all her essentials: her cell phone, wallet, a mini water bottle, a pack of crackers, and her keys. She’d been sure she would need everything on this little excursion, but now the weight of her bag was starting to get the best of her.
It only got worse from there when the jungle floor rose on a slight incline that quickly turned into a hill Julie had never expected. A steep hill. If she hadn’t been sweating buckets before, she definitely was now.
Maybe I can just take off my bag and hide it somewhere in the bushes—then get it on the way back.
Julie immediately shook her head. Before that thought even finished forming, she knew it was a bad idea. There was no telling if they’d be leaving the jungle on the same route they’d come in from, or if she’d even be able to find the same exact bush she hid her purse in.
Nope. Too risky.
Julie had just begun resigning herself to the hot, sweaty, uncomfortable fate of lugging her thirty thousand pound purse around when the path evened out, then sloped downward to a small community—a tiny village of sorts—right in the middle of the jungle.
In the midst of the trees and the bush, several huts had been set up on the ground. The inhabitants of the jungle—thirty or forty people—milled about, going in and out of the huts, gathering leaves from edible plants, even roasting meat on a fire. Julie cringed at the blazing flames, which would surely add another thousand degrees to the already baking heat.
But then it happened.
In the midst of the boring drone of the tour guide’s voice as he explained the jungle village, a flap in one of the nearby huts opened up, and out danced a little girl with tan skin and dark brown hair. She skipped smilingly toward the group, something black clutched in her little hands. As she stopped by the tour guide, the little girl said something in a language Julie couldn’t understand.
But the tour guide translated instantly.
“She says this is a gift from her grandmother, the seamstress of this little community.”
Smiling hugely, the little girl nodded and held out the folds of black fabric. Then she stretched out her arm and pointed through the crowd—straight at Julie.
Julie’s eyes widened, as immediately the entire group dissolved into giggles. Julie started to laugh nervously as the girl approached her, not knowing what to do or say. She was thankful for the gift, but it came so randomly, and left her feeling a little disoriented, maybe even a little embarrassed if she was honest. She’d already endured all the critical stares of her tour group peers who couldn’t fathom why she’d chosen to bring a purse instead of sleek fanny pack.
“Thank you,” she said politely, to which the tour guide translated.
The little girl said a few more words and in a flash the tour guide interpreted her request.
“Put it on, she says.”
“Put it on?” For the first time, Julie let the fabric unfold in her hands, and she realized what it was. A skirt. But not just any skirt—a skirt with a multitude of pockets!
“Thank you!” She said, much more enthusiastically now.
The little girl took her hand and led her into an empty hut to change out of her impossibly sweaty jeans.
There were no mirrors in the tiny jungle house, but Julie didn’t need any. The moment she slipped on the beautifully made skirt, she knew it looked great on her. It was a perfect fit, and the material was some of the softest she’d ever felt. Julie never thought of herself as skirt-wearing gal, but this had to be the most comfortable piece of clothing she had ever put on.
But that wasn’t even the best part.
When she unloaded all the stuff from inside her purse—the water, the cell phone, the snacks, and everything in between—all of it fit into the pockets of the skirt!
Julie twirled in the skirt, loving the airy feeling of the fabric, but most of all loving how everything was off her shoulders now. With all her essentials snugly in the skirt’s pockets, she was officially free to enjoy the rest of her vacation.
here's the video about the making of the Dora :)