Umbrellas
All my life, umbrellas embarrassed me. When I was a child, I looked out of the window on rainy days and asked my mum if I needed an umbrella. "You should take it with you", mum usually said, rightfully so.
But umbrellas always had an embarrassing feel to them. I can't say why, but they just made me look stupid. And I wouldn't have it. I was too cool to be embarrassed by my umbrella. So, contrary to my mum's recommendation, I left the house umbrella-less. Even though this often meant that I would be soaked as soon as I arrived at school, it doesn't matter.
All that mattered was that I maintained my coolness.
My relationship to umbrellas has changed over the years. Today, when I pick up an umbrella, I accept it with pleasure. When it's not raining, I use it as a walking cane, use the tip of it to point at things or push the button for the green man at pedestrian crossings. Lately, I've also developed a habit where I use the handle of the umbrella to lift up my basketball cap as I am greeting strangers.
Today, weirdly, umbrellas increase my coolness. My girlfriend rolls her eyes, whenever I adopt my umbrella personality. But I don't bother. I shrug, turn my umbrealla into a pimp cane, and walk away.
Umbrellas are really cool.