Geesh, I’m really behind on blogging! I’m also behind on finding a dentist/orthodontist/administer of severe pain to handle the serious dental work I need done. One thing and I’ll get off my soapbox…why, if I pay dental insurance, why can’t every dentist be in my network? We all pay it—what’s the difference when it doesn’t begin to cover the expensive stuff?! OK, I’m done.
At any rate, I had another milestone this week—if that’s what we are calling them these days. I went shopping. Not just a trip to the athletic store for shoes or to the jewelry store for a necklace, but an arms loaded, 2 hours in one store, girl time shopping trip. One of my friends was in town and we met up for some dinner and a round at Tri-County Mall. We walk in, and what store do we go in first? None other than my all time favorite, New York & Company. At this moment all hell broke loose—they were having a sale.
So I proceed to go rack to rack, rummaging through the items like a mad woman. My eyes glistened with each sales tag I saw, and I soon found myself in that euphoric state from the smell of brand new clothes. Then it dawned on me—was I getting the right size? Besides the one shirt I spotted at Fashion Bug while looking for a new belt, this is the first time I actually went clothes shopping. I quickly panicked, but snapped out of it just as fast. I grabbed the sizes that looked best, and continued on my merry way through the store.
Next stop, the dressing room. Ugh, the horrid dressing room. That 4×4 box that can make the shirt that looked hot on the mannequin, look like crap on you. It can make a young woman’s dream of “the perfect jeans” go down the toilet. With arms piled, I headed to the chamber of truth. “Dead man walking! Dead man walking here!” OK, so it wasn’t The Green Mile, but it wasn’t the Yellow Brick Road either. I had flash backs to my old jeans. “Dear God,” I prayed, “please let something fit good!”
I tried on the first shirt and a miracle happened. It fit. Not just I could get it on without busting the seams, but it fit good. To be honest, it fit great. “Damn, I look pretty good!” I thought to myself. I don’t know why it has taken me so long to believe that, but at that moment in the fitting room, felt so proud of myself. I put another top on, and another, and then another. Each one fit beautifully. I couldn’t believe it—everything fit that I tried on, but hey, I have worked my butt, and gut, off to get here. I actually walked out of the dressing room without the disappointment of hanging something I loved back up because I couldn’t get it on. I couldn’t tell you the last time that happened, but it’s been way too long.
I guess the only thing to fear now is racking up the credit card buying new clothes. I guess it’s a good thing I’m one heck of bargain shopper! (which by the way, $200 worth of clothes for $60!!! Thank you, thank you…I'll sign autographs later.)