The equation has changed slightly with the addition of the needy fruit of my loins that have not succumbed to the brainwashing as I had intended. A husband that nears spontaneous combustion in the confines of marble floors, gigantic potted plants, and lighting fixtures shaped as daisies. And a handbag that holds grocery store receipts, wet wipes, used Kleenex and hair bows instead of the beautiful cold hard cash money and limitless credit cards that my younger, more hip, guilt free spending purse may have contained.
Deep fried pretzels and giant warm chocolate chip cookies only work as a distraction for so long!
I gave you another chance yesterday- straight from the gym. I looked lovely. I smelled even better. You didn't judge me, though. Your automatic doors embraced my ripe ass just the same!
The trip wasn't without motive. I was searching for clothing for an 80's party. My love affair with the 80's is over! However, my sister's? Apparently not.
I've decided to go as Nancy Spungen of Sid and Nancy fame- in a sort of rebellion against neon and my youth.
I went into a boutique for women devoid of cellulite and breast tissue. The store reeked of eating disorders and daddy issues. I found a t-shirt and a jean skirt to try on.
The frail, famished salesperson looked like she was about to pounce on me like she could smell the cinnamon bagel on my breath," What size in the skirt," as she held up the size 7 that I could use as a turban!
Me: The largest you have. I have a bad thyroid. And I like carbohydrates.
I tried on a size 15 and it fit! Don't even get me started on that soapbox! At Ann Taylor a few minutes earlier- I was wearing a size 4- not comfortably or buttoned, but wearing nonetheless!!! The t-shirt was an X-large and I looked like an encased sausage- was sausage popular in the 80's? I hope so- because I bought it. If anyone knows where I can score some sweet black tar heroine so I could look all track-marky and emaciated- the tip would be much appreciated!
I then went into a store called Hot Topic to look for anything with spikes, skeletons or razor blades. As soon as I walked in, I'm pretty sure my brain hemorrhaged because my ears began bleeding from the screeching and howling coming from the speakers- fitting for my "fuck you- I have a bad attitude" costume, sure, but at the risk of sounding old- what the hell is with that??? On what planet did someone decide that was music?
So, yeah- mall- that's it- it's over. I can't do it anymore. I can't even pretend.
I think I'm going to stick with Target...I can shove the kids in one of those monstrosity 3- seater shopping carts... open up a bag of jelly beans to keep them quiet- that, God-willing, I will remember to pay for or they will finish before I check out and hide the packaging under a shoe rack... buy my tampons, ketchup, and a shirt that is kind to women with