Saw this while doing a "Google" search and thought I would post it.
__________________________________________

From the KIRO-TV Web Site, by Chris Cope:

I have no idea where I come from. I know I was born in Texas, I know my father was born in Texas, and his father was born in Texas. That's where my knowledge ends.

A few months back, however, my wife and I found a kiosk in an excessively tourist area of San Diego and paid $27 for a little piece of paper that allegedly displays my family crest and traces it to Scotland. I say allegedly because I'm pretty sure that for $20 more I could have been from anywhere I wanted.

Regardless, I have clung to this real or imagined aspect of my family history. And at some point, probably after one too many Scottish ales, I must have expressed some sort of desire to connect to my Celtic heritage, because I am now the proud owner of a kilt.

I know what many of you males out there are saying, "Ah, you're wearing a skirt."
Really, bucko? The fact of the matter is, kilt wearing is a true challenge to one's manhood -- like just standing there at Victoria's Secret while your wife tries stuff on.

I mean, for the love of Pete, doesn't Victoria's Secret realize that men are occasionally dragged out to go shopping? Why can't they have a secluded Masculinity-Retention Area where we can go watch sports and belch and maybe punch each other while our wives decide on their own if a pair of underwear makes them look fat? How in the world can underwear make you look fat?!?

But I digress. The point is, kilt wearing is a challenge. And by accident, I have developed a five-step process by which any male can ease himself into being in touch with his (real or imagined) Celtic heritage.

Step 1:
Wear your kilt around the house. You can wear just about anything around the house and not feel too embarrassed about it. Heck, you could even wear your wife's underwear, if it didn't make you look fat.

Step 2:
Invite a buddy over for beer. It doesn't hurt to be kind and alert your buddy to the fact that you'll be wearing a kilt when he shows up. This saves him having to act like he's not at all fazed by the sight of his friend in what less-knowledgeable types might think is a skirt.

Admittedly, at this point, my ego was holding up about as well as a squirrel in a fight with a polar bear. So my friend and I did our best to offset the effects of the kilt by drinking manly (a.k.a., crappy) beer and grilling steaks.

Step 3:
Go hiking in the kilt. I'm sure many of you by now are screaming at me to answer the first question that everyone asks when I tell them I wear a kilt: Do I wear it, you know, the traditional way -- wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Up until step three, the answer was no. And it would have remained that way were it not for the fact that the beer drinking in step two threw me off my game. I didn't realize my traditional style until a slight breeze hit me. I thought: "Hmm, that's an interesting feeling. Oh, dang. I appear to have forgotten something."

My ego was holding up a little better on this day, because I was able to do something active. Granted, hiking in a kilt won't be incorporated into the Lumberjack Games, but it was enough for me.

Step 4:
Go eat at a small restaurant. Soaking with sweat from our hike, my wife, my friend and I went to a small place with only two other people. The combination of limited onlookers and my manly post-hiking stink helped steel my nerve for step five.

Step 5:
Go to a pub. It is against my personal code of ethics to pass on an opportunity to go to my beloved Shakespeare Pub. And with a bit of liquid support, I suddenly found myself out in public, wearing a kilt, and feeling pretty darn good about it.

Having successfully completed all five steps, I am a new man; a very manly man. Although, from a distance, I may look like a very ugly girl.

Chris Cope is married, with no children. His column appears every other Tuesday.

Original Story Link: /www.kirotv.com/news/1411300/detail.html