Monday, March 29, 2010

I just had a feeling…

I typically use this blog as a foundation for publically bragging about myself, or mildly complaining about my job and hectic life.  Today, I will use this blog as an open invitation for you to laugh at me.  Well, I’m laughing, too, so maybe all’s not lost.  Maybe there’s a little bragging…

About twenty or so people at work threw in ten bucks to participate in a ‘Biggest Loser’-type competition.  Initial weigh-in occurred on Day 1 and all body fat percentages were captured.  Six weeks later (coming up on April 8th) we weigh in again and the ‘Biggest Loser’ gets the pot.  A few of us in the group are VERY competitive…not winning isn’t an option, so we’re taking this to extremes.

Blah blah…I’m down about ten pounds.  Prior to this weight loss, I was already in need of smaller pants.  A few people, including my Mom, consistently remarked about how ridiculous my clothing looked, particularly my pants.  I didn’t mind one bit; I felt comfortable in bigger clothing.  It’s just more snuggly. 

A lovely girl I work with, we’ll call her Jan to protect the innocent, works part time at a clothing store and urged me to go shopping.  I’m not a fan of shopping, especially clothing shopping.  I strongly dislike changing rooms, taking my shoes off and on, staring at myself in a ‘fat’ mirror under fluorescent lights, etc.  All the typical complaints that a woman complains of; yup, I’m part of that crew.

Jan gave me a few decent coupons and reminded me of her weekend hours.  Oh, hell.  Sure, I’ll go.  I phoned my Mom and we had decided to leave for the mall on a Saturday morning at 11 am with my beautiful Ava in tow.  We were on a mission.  Parking turned out to be a non-issue and we headed right to Jan’s store.  So far, so good.

I felt weird walking into the shop; the club-ish music pounded in the background and I was instantly ignored by most of the teeny boppers.  I’m only thirty-three, but boy, did I feel old.  The girls did not seem to appreciate that I was in there with my Mom and a two year old girl.  Maybe my dress didn’t help the situation: hair in loose ponytail, ripped jeans, baggy sweatshirt, minimal make-up; ya know, typical ‘me’ on a weekend. 

I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  Those girls will regret it because I plan on dropping some real cash. 

The selection of clothing appeared a little limited, but I made it this far.  There’s no backing out now; I have engaged in the mission.  A few items jumped out at me and I started piling the stroller with jackets, shirts, pants, more shirts and a skirt – about 15 pieces, total.  Suddenly, Miss Sunshine appeared out of nowhere and immediately escorted me to a changing room.  Ugh.  Changing. 

Sunshine waited on me until I tried on the correct sizes and was satisfied with more than three quarters of the items.  She made goo-goo faces at Ava, exclaiming ‘How Cute!’  She asked if I had a store credit card, to which I answered ‘no’, but my Mom was willing to open one just for the additional discount.  Sunshine, with a spring in her step, escorted us to the registers where she bid us good-bye and went about her merry way.

Metro Mike, with his headset, swaggered over to the register and asked if we were opening a charge.  My Mom started the paper work and I dropped the coupon on the counter asking if the card discount could be used in conjunction with the coupon.  Metro grabbed the coupon and gave it a suspecting look.  ‘Um, like, we aren’t affiliated with this store anymore.  I can, like, check if we’ll take it, but I’m thinking, um, no.’  It was then that I realized I had gone to the wrong store.