February 15, 2013 § 2 Comments
I’m not what you would call a “shopper.”
I’ve always been the “do I have to?” whiner whose least favorite word is “browse” and would rather buy something with a click than suffer strolling down aisles and only leaving hungry.
The worst part to me (and probably women everywhere) is the dreaded Trying On. UGH. In and out of clothes, getting hot under the most unflattering lighting imaginable, only to discover what doesn’t fit while taming your ever-flattering “in-and-out-of-shirt” hair and consoling yourself through the veins/cellulite/rolls/hair/flab now on display to you in every direction thanks to the Room of Mirrors.
And that was before Body Pre-Peanut.
Now, the main question is “will this fit on my increasingly-manatee-esque body?” on top of “does this look cute?” and “is it worth the price?”
All good questions I was asking myself this past weekend when my husband and I took an impromptu trip to Target for some t-shirts and jeans, as I have grown out of those once-comfortable staples. However, the line of women for the dressing room diverted me to the mirrors at the back of the quiet maternity section to covertly try on my items without anyone noticing. Done and done.
Another gal had the same idea. This was of comfort to me until I really took in who I was about to share very large mirrors with. Let’s call her SheFit. Covered head-to-toe in skin-tight active wear, leaving me fairly sure I could play bluegrass on her abs. Next to me, who very well could be big enough to eat her. I tried not to notice, but after needing assistance from my husband to get into a pair of pants while she stood by, I took in the beauty of her calves and had to stifle a snort.
Sure, let’s try on clothes side by side and see who looks better in them.