My Saturday began like many others. I woke up, waited for a few hours then made first contact with the wife. Instantly my early warning detectors went off. She seemed to be moving through the house with an odd purpose. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she stashed her coupons and it took her time to go to these safe spots and gather the horde together for the weekly invasion of the grocery store. I am not a fan of grocery shopping. I hate the lost of speed as coupons and prices are looked at. However, I am a fan of the money she saves us and I truly believe that if I go I can make it as fun as possible. It will help both of us save money. However, as I learned this week you must do your best to look under the surface of these trips.
Kristin looked a little guilty as she asked if I would go shopping with her. However, I was instantly distracted when she mention we where going to Victoria Secret. She kept talking, but I have to admit I was thinking more about the possibility of “helping” her in the dressing room than listening to every little thing she said. Did I say she was looking very good that morning?
I was a little confused as we stopped at Wendy’s to grab a quick lunch because as she said, “It would be dangerous to go to the store on an empty stomach.” I should have been worried at this point. But, I was stuck more on the thought, “yummy hamburger”.
We finished up and drove up the hill to the big scary mean place called the mall. I actually think I saw a very lovely old lady eating a kitty and slapping a child as we parked.
Just as we went into Victoria Secret, the trip turned from fantasy vacation into shopping trip. I guess there is a store policy at our mall that states dirty old men are not allowed into the dressing rooms. They even had a picture of me placed up next to the door as the “prime” example.
I felt betrayed. How could such a travesty happen in modern America? We walked up to several small labeled bins. I thought at least it would be quick. We approached a flock of harpies hovering over the bins tossing random samples of underwear in every type and size. I heard that lovely old lady cackling behind me. I turned to see she was pointing at me and laughing. I turned back and my wife had started mining the bins. Since, I was worried about black lung I tried to get her to stop. She flashed me the cute eyes and started to fling underwear at me. Apparently, I was the designated mine cart for the underwear of excellent deal.
Finally after the vein had been depleted we made our way out into the mall. Then the oddest thing happened she turned the wrong way. I was like, “Honey, the car is the other way.” In a shocked voice she said, but I told you that I need to get some summer clothes. She stopped and looked me gently in the eyes and said, “Honey by the time school ended, I was almost out of summer clothes. You wouldn’t want that to happen would you.” My eyes look up as I innocently considered the possibilities of my wife with no summer clothing. My wife must have misinterpreted my innocent smile and she felt the need to say, “Jeffery!” I don’t know why she feels the need to say this so often. We moved on. As I walked, some lovely looking old lady shouldered me and as I turned punched me squarely in the jaw. She pointed at me laughing as we entered one of my wife’s favorite clothing stores.
I bumped into my wife as she stopped right inside the door. I looked around and to our horror the entire store looked like the reject patterns from Woodstock. She quickly moved through the store and left. We went through every store in the mall. There seems to be no such thing as normal summer clothes for women. One store was so painful I turned into a pillar of salt for just looking at the annoying patterns. She just kept mentioning how she hates clothes shopping. As the number of stores we entered approached the size of the national debt I believed her. I swear we went into about 2 trillion stores in our mall before we left with a bag of untested panties. And we saw less then a handful of styles. Clubbing cloths which I thought were great but my wife didn’t want to wear. Seeing the shear volume of hippie cloths makes me worry that the drug problems are starting to approach the per capita levels of the late sixties. We saw clothes my Nana would not of worn because they where for old people and clothes that might be appealing to a 10 to 12 year old girls . . . the clothes appeared to be in stores for men or stores with marketing for 17 to 21 year old girls. . . riiiiiight.
I worked past my normal hated of cloths shopping to a state of sorrow for my wife. I think she might even hate cloths shopping more then I do. However, unlike me, she will not settle on the closest clothing that will not make me vomit and then buy ten. She just seems to keep look for something she actual does not hate. I felt very sorry for her as we pulled out and into the strip mall next door. ………………NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
See you next time Clothing Cowboy!
Note from Kristin: I do hate clothes shopping. I have a terrible time finding things that fit in prints that are not blinding. I don’t know why stores feel the need to showcase clothing in bright vomit prints and horizontal stripes for overweight people. At least I got 11 pairs of underwear for $25. I’ve got a stockpile for a year now 🙂