The trauma of my day was that I had to buy some jeans. Yes, it had been a good three years since I struggled to put my plump thigh into a new tube of denim, and I thought it would be swell to go do it today. It was time. I'd been putting it off long enough, and the rear of two pair were a bit thin. When one's underwear are visible, it's time to go shopping.
So off I went to Macy's for a quick in and out session of shopping. I had to be on time for a haircut, so I forced a time issue. One half hour max.
I made it to the second floor and began to circle. Strangely, all the clothing had been rearranged since my last visit. Where were my jeans? The ones I know well? The ones I do not have to try on? I didn't want to feel the tight tube of denim, so I had to keep looking. I had no idea where anything was, so I began my search, discovering all sorts of things to love, everything black. I always buy black clothing. And jeans. Okay, I thought, keeping hold of the black shirt. Maybe just one black thing.
Back at it, I scoured the floor, finding in the farthest corner my brand. But my brand seemed to have been down sized. My brand seems to be--horrors--Mom jeans.
Alas, I dug through the pile, finding only one pair in my size. I held it up against my body. Looks fine, I thought, trying to find a pool of denial to jump into.
I circled again, deciding that I needed to find something not black. Search, I encouraged myself. Search.
Finally, at the last minute, I found a red sweater! Yay! something not black. I bought it and a black shirt and a pair of jeans I will likely return because they don't fit. But you know, at least I can put my plump thigh into the tube of denim here at home.
Some things just need a load of privacy.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org