I HATE shopping for clothes.
I am short, thick and....well, unique.
I can't just grab something cute, buy it and wear it. I have to try on clothes. "Cute and tiny" is out and "coverage and comfort" is the game.
I needed a blouse to replace a well worn, holey favorite. I needed summer dress shoes, and I needed some running shorts.
What is the scientific reason, that when I walk or run, the right side of my shorts tries to crawl up to my armpits? I thought it was fat thighs, but I'm starting to think it is a personal mutation.
So when I say running shorts, I mean knee pants. If these ride up, it may create a tourniquet, causing a new issue and I'll be known around town as running girl with dead leg, RGWDL, instead of running girl with wadded shorts, RGWWS.
I quickly take my necessary items into the dressing room. To speed up this painful process and decrease the mirror time, I put on all three items at the same time.
I laughed at myself, as I stood there in brown heels, black with lime racing stripe spandex knee pants, and a multicolored spring plaid blouse. I looked up at my face to roll my eyes at myself, but was distracted by the rogue springy curls that had flopped to the opposite side, creating the insect antennae look.
I turned away from the mirror to check a text on my phone. Seconds later I heard a knock on my dressing room door.
"Someone's in here" I sighed.
"Um, like. I think I like left my wallet in there...hee hee hee"
An obviously over giggly girl replied in the annoying voice that raises at the end of every sentence.
I looked on the floor and found a hot pink wallet that had "hotty" embroidered in white swirly letters.
My judgement of this girl made me forget what I was doing. I opened the door wide and handed her the wallet.
I can only imagine that she HAD BEEN smiling, because when she saw me, her face dropped, mouth opened, and her gum dangled on the end of her tongue, in mid chew.
Her eyes started at my way too high-heeled taupe shiny shoes, (that I chunked back on the shelf before running out of the store) and her gaze slowly moved up my white randomly bruised bare legs, over my spandex capri knee pants, up to my plaid shirt, skipped my face and landed on my curls, that waved at her like a social two year old thinking everyone is here to see them.
I remembered my fashion at the moment, thought about denying that I would EVER wear these at the same time, but instead I spread my arms like Vanna White and let my fingers push the door toward her, closing.
"Thank....you..." She said as I imagined her running to blog about the old eclectic lady in the Target dressing room.