I tried to remedy the skipping ailment on my own by begging my mom to buy Skippy brand peanut butter instead of her usual cost cutting generic brand. Contrary to my childish belief system, however, Skippy does not, in fact, hold magical skipping powers.
All these years later and I still can't skip. I've tried. I've failed. I've endured teasing from my own children as they flaunt their Skip-It toy in my face. The ramifications of non-skipping are clear. I'll never find myself with the prestigious 'Skipper' title. Never. Not even for a 3-hour cruise.
And thank goodness I've never made any friends with people named Lou, because I'd never be able to skip to them.
I can't possibly be the only one in the world with this crippling limitation. I wonder if I can check myself into a prestigious Skipping Academy where the finest Skipping Professors in the business will teach me to skip like one of the impish VonTrapp children, frolicking and singing on the scenic mountainsides. I'd never skip class, well, because, I can't. Oh, to dream of a day where nobody will cast dispersions upon a non-skipping individual. A time where skippers and non-skippers alike will join hands and live in peaceful joy and harmony.