Yesterday I went shopping [shock and horror]. I'm on a very strick budget so I shopping isn't something I do very often. (Can you call it a budget when it means you have no money after you pay your bills?)
My closet has become the final resting place for items with holes, rips, alterations-gone-wrongs, and doesn't-quite-fit-rights. Most of my clothes can be placed in one of three categories: will pass for work, will pass for workout and will pass only in the comfort of my own home on "fat days".
I'll be the first to admit, I hate shopping. Much like looking for a suitable man to date, I find there's not enough choice in the area I live, and I know what I want but none of the stores are selling it. Ironically, I have a picnic date on Tuesday evening and was looking for something that says "I'm the most delicious thing on this blanket".
I tore through three shops in under 30 minutes, trying on at least 30 items. The clothes were flying, the swear words were flying. It was not one of my finer moments. Some things fit, some things didn't. But mostly they didn't. A size "small" fit great around my waist but was snug on my biceps (thanks to my Billy band workouts) and smooshed my boobs for that "bodice on a bar wench" look. And don't even get me started on my ghetto booty a$$ that just won't quit.
So, I decided to switch gears and hunt down a bathing suit for next weekend's Canada Day bash (if there's ever a time to flaunt your jugs, it's in a swim suit). Mistake! I tried on 6 bikini's and a one-piece [shudder]. Let's just say, the only place a girl wants to see saddle bags, is on a horse.
I left the mall feeling like crap.
By the time I arrived at the hair salon, I was drained. I asked my hair dresser for something different, something "polished". And for the first time that day, I got exactly what I wanted.
If nothing else, I'll have amazing hair on my date. On second thought, bar wench boobs might not be so bad...