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.