Clothes shopping, and why it sucks

Yesterday was a real scorcher. The temps hovered somewhere in the low-90s and Z wasn't feeling all that great. I decided we needed to get out of the house and take advantage of someone else's a/c. The local mall seemed like a good choice.

As a rule, I generally avoid indoor malls. The lack of a regular paycheck will do that to you. But I also find the crowds and noise to be a major energy drain. However on a very hot day when you have a cranky child on your hands, the mall can be a life saver. So off we went.

My original plan was to stroll the perimeter a few times and do some window shopping. But as so frequently happens, I found myself unable to resist the pull of my favorite clothing stores. This was a VERY bad idea.

Listen. There are few things that get me down faster than the reality check that typically follows an "I must try all these cute clothes on!" high. Way back before the effects of gravity, time, and childbirth took over -- I used to be a size two. Now, like Norma "I'm ready for my close up" Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, I spend far too much time trying to recapture my faded glory and not enough coming to terms with how I look today. This does not a good clothes shopping experience make.

So back to yesterday. It was a total downer. And by that I mean it made me want to crawl into a hole, curl up, and die....and then stuff my face with deep-fried dough topped with powdered sugar. Like this:


Mmmmmmm. Funnel cake.

I digress.

Look, it's bad enough that some key body parts (and you know who you are, you traitors!) have decided to hold a race to see who can reach my feet first. And that I now know how a JELL-O mold would feel if it had to stuff itself into a pair of pants. But to then try on an item of clothing...only to find that the size I was just two weeks ago is now TOO FUCKING SMALL...is really the final blow.

I work out people! I do. But this is not an encouraging sign. In fact, it makes me want to say "screw this!" and move my ass to Hawaii where they appreciate big people. Where I might actually feel slender and graceful. And where I can comfortably walk around in something like this....

...without living in fear that I might meet the wrong end of a whaler's harpoon.

Please be sure to visit me at my new Hawaiian home on the appropriately named "Big Island." I'll be the sunburnt gal rocking the muumuu. Aloha!