Tuesday, February 03, 2009

shopping


When my daughter Amanda shops she turns it into an adventure. She loves to try on funky clothes and will come out of the dressing room posing and prancing around dramatically. It is a hysterical sight to behold.

I on the other hand love shopping but I hate trying on clothes. Hate it. Like the other day. I'm trying on jeans in a claustrophobic changing room.

T.: (calls through the door) Do you like them?

ME: No, they're not working for me, they're too tight.

T.: Get out here, let me see.

ME: No way these jeans make my thighs fatter and I see muffin top.

T.: Just get out here, I'll let you know. Trust me.

ME: Other people will see.

T.: Who cares, no one's out here.

ME: I'm taking them off.

T.: Okay then I'm coming in.

ME: (in a sing song tone) No your not, the door's locked.

T.: (sing song tone) Then I'll crawl under the door.

ME: You do and I swear I'll go Mommie Dearest on you and beat you with this hanger..

Lately I've noticed a trend with department stores. When customers get to the cash register the sales person begins to ask them a series of questions. I just want to pay and go. But they want to know my address, phone number. Especially Fashion Bug. Every time. They even want my e-mail address.

Sometimes I just want to say.."Would you like a blood sample too? I'm A negative."

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