Friday, September 9, 2011

In Search of Grown-Up Clothes

Afternoon Readers,

     While lying in bed, and before sweet sleep and Coor's Light could spirit me away to a land where no one asks me anything for eight hours straight, I remembered to run through the Checklist. "Honey, there's a wedding coming up. Do you have a shirt, shoes, belt, pants and a tie? Actual pants, mind you. Not ones with a drawstring." He confirmed he did, but wouldn't mind having a new shirt...or, at least I thought that's what he said, as he set me out on the hallway, closed the door and put a pillow over his ears..

     That night, I dreamed Husband and I were at the wedding, wearing expensive, perfectly tailored outfits. Women fainted. John Stamos asked me to marry him. "No no, Uncle Jessie," I laughed, "I'm taken by that fine man over there. Did you not see how his belt matches his shoes?"

     By the time the sun had risen, my mind was made up. It meant taking Butch and Sundance to the mall, by myself, but, by-the-twinkle-in-Stamos'-eye, I was determined to get us some new clothes. There's only so many times a woman can patch a potato sack, before someone realizes it's supposed to be holding potatoes, not muffin tops.

     "Hi, can I help you?" Her Mohawk had popped from behind a rack of clothes, before I knew what was happening. Like a giddy peacock, she bounced around. "We have sales today."

You sure you're not reenacting The Last of the Mohicans? Trying to burn down that jewelry-stand-fort, are you? If you hurry, you can keep that poor pioneer girl from cliff-diving...

     "We're just looking, but thank you." I smiled and continued bumping the stroller into things I couldn't afford. Before long, an impossibly tall woman had picked-up our scent and began hovering.

     "Can I help you?"

     I threw her a bone. "Dresses?" It might as well been a million dollars, for what happened next.

     Peroxided curls shook, hands flailed, eyes opened so wide, contacts popped out and hit the cashier. "Dresses? Dresses? We have dresses. Let me get you some. What size are you? What color do you like? How fat do you feel today? If someone was holding a gun to your head, how would you rate your self-confidence on a scale of one to ten?... Let me get you a fitting room started."

     There was nothing I could do, just stare down at the double stroller, which had apparently come with an invisibility feature I hadn't known about. Defeated, I wheeled our little party back to the dressing rooms, the one assigned to us already full of garments.

     "Let me know if you need anything." Mohawk Girl closed the door with a soft "click", and Butch, Sundance and I were left staring at each other.

     I pounded on the walls. "Help, someone locked me in with my kids and an abundance of sequins...We'll drown.." Realizing no one was coming, I decided to scar my children for life and try on a dress. After which, the three of us hid- just long enough to make it look like I'd squeezed into another dress or two - and sneaked back up to the register. One dress, a necklace, two shirts and a tie later, and we were back in the car.

     That evening, I left the new shirts and tie on the bed, to surprise Husband. When he got home, I waited, smiling, in the hallway. After a moment, he stuck his head out the bedroom door.

     "You know, Honey....I could really use a suit."

So, Readers..any horrific shopping stories?

Until Next Time!