>Let me preface this blog post by saying that it is Sunday and my husband is home from work today and isn’t too keen on my spending my precious hours writing a well-written blog piece in what he consideres HIS spare time, so I’ll have to make this brief. (He isn’t here at the moment because I sent him off to the store to buy me some Green & Black Organic Dark 70% chocolate and this special bottled tamarind sauce that you can only get up here that drives me wild with desire. Anyone guess what time of the month is right around the corner?)
But I wanted to get this out because what happened to me yesterday is a common situation women face while shopping for clothes but is so frustrating when it happens and I want you to know that you aren’t alone. It happens to the best of us.
Yesterday, I went out shopping for a pencil skirt like this:
In truth, I would really like a leather one exactly like the one that is pictured, but I would have been satisfied with any pencil skirt that would have fit me right. And despite the fact that this isn’t exactly a strange thing to want, pencil skirts are in style right now, and I tried on half a dozen at least, I couldn’t find one. They were either too tight in the butt and too loose in the waist or too short or too long, or too ugly. Nothing fit and looked right. Which frankly led me to feel a bit like this:
Now the old Chloe would have blamed myself for all of this. I used to feel that if the clothes didn’t fit me that meant there was something wrong with my body. And if they didn’t have what I wanted then there was something wrong with my style. And, from what I hear from women who write me about their own shopping woes, I think that this is a common phenomenon for women and stems from our inherent belief that if there is a problem in our world then somehow it is all our own fault. So, I’m pretty well over this. I didn’t get mad at myself and my body because the store didn’t have what I wanted. That’s growth.
But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Don’t we moms hate waste? And what could be more wasteful than spending an entire afternoon shopping for something only to come up empty-handed? It certainly feels like a royal waste of time and energy to me. If I go out shopping and don’t find anything then the entire trip can start to feel like a big waste, which is bad enough, but we must be on guard that this sense of wasting time doesn’t result in an expensive fashion mistake: Settling.
Settling almost never turns out good. We all have garments we’ve settled on sitting in the depths of our closet. We run across them from time to time when we’re reorganizing. I usually just shove them back where I found them because it is hard to face the double-whammy that I wasted both Time and Money. I end up keeping the article, sometimes for years, promising myself that one day I’ll fit into it, or maybe one day it’ll come back in style, or maybe one day I’ll really look good in puce. Sigh.
The other problem with yesterday’s shopping trip is that I took my husband with me. We did have a great time hanging out together, but he totally doesn’t get shopping. At. All. Where shopping is concerned, he’s a hunter through and through. He goes into the store knowing what he wants and he walks out with his kill, er, purchase. Job done. He doesn’t get that sometimes you don’t know exactly what you want, or that you might have to try on 15 different things, or that you might find something you didn’t plan to find. He just doesn’t get any of it. So here I was wanting this skirt and there he was wondering when we’d be done. I started to feel like I needed to buy something, anything, that would validate the time we spent out shopping.
And, now I’m going to admit something to you. This is exactly what happened to me yesterday. I couldn’t find the skirt I was looking for and then I became desperate. I knew what was happening and I knew I needed to stop myself, but I couldn’t. My rational mind was telling me to let it go, but my pride got in the way. And since I have to drive an hour to get to a mall, this only fueled my sense of desperation. So, I ended up buying a drastically reduced $4.97 black pleather skirt I found at JCPenney. This sounds all well and good, but it is a SIZE 0. I AM NOT A SIZE 0. I could barely get into this damned skirt in the dressing room, and I sure as heck can’t sit down in it, but I bought it anyway! Even though I know better, I bought it telling myself the ultimate feminine lie, “I’ll lose some weight so I can wear it.”
Oh well. Even experienced shoppers make errors. At least it was only a $5 error. And maybe I can cut it up and make a (teeny-tiny) pillow out it.
Oops. My husband is home. Gotta go. At least I’ll have chocolate and tamarind sauce to console myself. That won’t help me wear a Size O plastic skirt, but it’ll be yummy just the same.
Have a nice Sunday!