Yesterday, I went shopping with the kid. Those Christmas gift cards were burning a hole in my pocket. So, I ran by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and then headed to the freeway towards the mall.
I didn’t go to the mall in town, I went to my favorite one about 20 minutes up the freeway, I park, pop the back hatch of my car to get the stroller out, unload the kid, go to get the stroller and that’s when I see that my trunk is empty. No stroller. Well, #$@&%!. Okay, I’ll just carry the kid. I drove all this way, it would be a waste of gas to not get some shopping done.
I go to grab my purse and voila, there is no purse. Well, #$@&%! for the second time. Fortunately, my gift cards were in my back pocket. So I was able to move past this slight frustration.
I walk into Ann Taylor Loft to spend my first card. There is a really unfriendly woman working behind the counter. She doesn’t even speak to me when I walk inside. That really chaps my hide! I hate the clerks that follow you around while you are trying to shop, basically pushing you into spending money, but I always appreciate it when they at least are friendly. This one wasn’t. But, then 3 women walk in behind me and this clerk greets each one of them, gives them her name, and says, “If there is anything I can help you with PLEASE let me know” and she had this really fake grin on her face that just made me want to slap her.
Maybe I wanted to slap her because I was holding a 30 pound 19 month old who was wriggling out of my arms. He gets down, runs to the display windows and starts climbing up the shelves so he can see out the window better. “Come on Lboy. Don’t do that. Come here kiddo. Lboy GET OVER HERE!” He does none of what I tell him to do.
The rude clerk is still greeting everyone else except me. All I wanted was a nice skinny jean to tuck into my Uggs & a sweater dress. I try to get her attention, I walk up to her and ask for help. She held up her index finger and said, “Give me a minute” and then walks away, picks up the phone on the desk, and says, “Hey girl. Sorry, I was helping someone. So what were you saying about…” At that point I just left.
I walk next door to Coach. My father-in-law gave me this really awesome gift card there. Here the women are amazing and ooh and aah over my kid the appropriate amount and then let me shop. I find a nice bag and head to Dillard’s. I’m on the hunt for an outfit to wear to this wedding I have next week.
At once I see the most perfect pair of gold BCBG shoes. Ladies, these were Carrie Bradshaw shoes. I force myself to back 10 paces away from the shoes and go upstairs. I try on the world’s most god awful sweater dress that created bulges in places women should never have bulges. While trying on the sweater dress, Lboy has figured out how to open to the dressing room door and he bolts. I have leggings around my ankles, the sweater dress over my head, and I’m standing there in my granny panties & a gray bra for God & country to see. Well, #@$%&!.
I throw on my jeans, tshirt, & my sweater, go running after the kid, barefoot with my sore toe that just had an in grown toe nail cut out of it so it looks like I just got shot in the foot, and I’m beyond frustrated and I looked grotesque to boot.
At this point I put my hair in pony tail, yes the hair I spent 30 minutes straightening, I take off my sweater because it’s hot as balls in the store, the sweating wasn’t helping with the grotesqueness, and I decide to leave. I head for the escalator and Lboy shouts, “STAIRS!” and bolts. I catch him right before he nose dives. We get to the bottom and he bolts again so he can ride up the escalator. He’s too quick for me and we end up at the top floor again, where you know, I had just flashed everyone my granny panties. It was really great for my self esteem to see them again.
I impulsively buy the gold shoes. I couldn’t help myself. I remembered a great cream sweater dress at Ann Taylor that would match the shoes perfectly (now referred to as “my babies”) & they are doing a 50% off the entire store sale. So I go back. Again, I am not greeted by the rude clerk and I go about shopping on my not so merry way. Keep in mind, Lboy is still in my arms and fighting me.
I drag him to the dressing room and this time I lean my backside against the dressing room door and am standing with my torso bent over in an “L” shape while trying to put the dress on, so Lboy can’t get the door open. I hated the dress, it was wool, it itched, and again I was bulging in places I shouldn’t bulge. I got the heck out of there. I was done!
On my way out, I hear the biatch clerk telling a super, super, skinny shopper that she needs to eat a sandwich or go shopping at the Limited Too because she’s too small to fit into “regular” clothes at “this store.” On the inside I start flipping out. The poor skinny chick is all red and embarrassed, leaves without buying anything, and I’m thinking to myself “Thank the Lord that woman didn’t say something like that to me” because yesterday I would have told her for every sandwich she thinks I need to eat she needs to eat ten less.
I leave the mall at this point. I was over it. Lboy finally fell asleep on the way home, I finally got my granny panties out of a twist, and am now thinking that the next time I go shopping with Lboy and there is a chance I might end up flashing every one, here’s hoping I will at least have on some cuter undies.