The other day I casually mentioned that I had angst over needing to get a new dress for my son’s wedding in March.  Other friends had said, “You better not wait too long.”  Judy said, “Let’s go tomorrow!”  Swell.

So I put on makeup so I’d look pretty good and sneakers so I didn’t kill someone when my feet fell off and out the door we went at around 9:30 this morning.  First stop, an hour drive to Catherine’s, a plus-sized, very nice women’s store.  The saleslady asked if she could help the minute I walked in the door, so I told her I needed a dress for my son’s wedding.  “Oh, we don’t carry dresses anymore.  A lot of the Catherine’s don’t. I know, not too many places carry plus-sized dresses, but you can go on line.  I’m sorry.”  Not as sorry as me!  We poked around and I found a few things on sale, but certainly not what I was looking for.  The saleslady said to check out Nordstrom’s at the Kink-o-Prussia Mall.  (King of Prussia)  I’m having an attitude.

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Judy’s eyes started rolling back in her head like a slot machine ready to puke out a mother lode.  She LOVES Nordstrom’s and malls.  I HATE malls and shun them like a toddler shuns liver, yet off we went, another hour drive, back the same way we had just come. 

Monday, October 27, 2014

 

Today I am grateful for shopping with my sister.  HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa!  Lol just wouldn’t cut it.  Neither would LMAO.  Here’s the glitch.  My sister LOVES shopping!  I HATE shopping!  Now you’re getting the picture, right?

 

 

 

The other day I casually mentioned that I had angst over needing to get a new dress for my son’s wedding in March.  Other friends had said, “You better not wait too long.”  Judy said, “Let’s go tomorrow!”  Swell.

 

 

 

So I put on makeup so I’d look pretty good and sneakers so I didn’t kill someone when my feet fell off and out the door we went at around 9:30 this morning.  First stop, an hour drive to Catherine’s, a plus-sized, very nice women’s store.  The saleslady asked if she could help the minute I walked in the door, so I told her I needed a dress for my son’s wedding.  “Oh, we don’t carry dresses anymore.  A lot of the Catherine’s don’t. I know, not too many places carry plus-sized dresses, but you can go on line.  I’m sorry.”  Not as sorry as me!  We poked around and I found a few things on sale, but certainly not what I was looking for.  The saleslady said to check out Nordstrom’s at the Kink-o-Prussia Mall.  (King of Prussia)  I’m having an attitude.

 

 

 

Judy’s eyes started rolling back in her head like a slot machine ready to puke out a mother lode.  She LOVES Nordstrom’s and malls.  I HATE malls and shun them like a toddler shuns liver, yet off we went, another hour drive, back the same way we had just come. 

 

 

 

She started pulling crap off the racks with like an octopus trying to get out of a net.  Beads and glitterieiii whizzed past my head.  “Take this!  And this!  Oooooo this is pretty.” She squealed with glee.  “They won’t fit. . .I hate that color. . .that one has NO color. . .I’ll look like a cadaver in that!” You do not want to go shopping with me.  Ever.  Only a blood relative should have that joy.  “Just try them!” she said.  “You might be surprised!”  Oh boy was I surprised.

 

 

 

So I tried on the blue. . .half. . .because only half went on.  Then I tried on the purple beaded thing and started to scratch like a beagle with fleas.  She brought a funky, one shoulder number into the fitting room just for fun.  Hah!  Her fun, not mine!  When I got it on, laughing hysterically, I pulled out a pouch on the side of the thing looking bewildered. “I wonder what this is for,” my patient sister said, tugging at the thing!  “My LEFT HIP!” I shouted, “I need a special pouch for my left hip.”  We were laughing so hard I couldn’t see.  She snapped a picture with her phone and promised to not put it on Facebook.  But vanity is losing out to humor and I posted it myself!  Enjoy your yuk.

 

 

 

Jungle print was not what I was looking for but it was somewhere close to my size.  Except I think someone must have had a hot hair dryer nearby and the thing was made of shrink-wrap.  As soon as I got it on it started to suck itself to me like the skin of the animal it emulated.  Fwooop!  As I started to roll up out of it, I looked like a snake shedding its’ skin. . .the hard way. “Get me OUTTA this thing,” I shouted.  The more I laughed the harder I sweated and the more it stuck to me.   But my sister couldn’t hear me because she was laughing too hard. . .and being a supportive sister.  .  . taking pictures!  No one can document your life like a sibling! That’s the other picture.  

 

 

 

Then there was the gray.  Gray.  Yes, gray.  Sea-creature-gray.  I grudgingly tried it on.   At least it WENT on, which is more than most of them.  I took one look in the mirror and started making EEE-EEE-EEE noises just like the dolphin I resembled.  My sister melted to the floor, tears running down her face in an exhausted spasm of fresh hysterics.  I could hear people in adjoining dressing rooms laughing.  I know they were poking their heads out when we left to get a peek at the new dressing room act that appears on Monday’s at three.  I can never go back there.  I swear.  I won’t anyway.  I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. . . or my sisters.

 

 

 

We walked the 400-mile maze of a mall from one large department store to another.  Trying on, peeling off, laughing, crying, sweating, swearing. . .oh, that was just me, I guess.  I’d have better success finding the Holy Grail than a new dress.

 

 

 

The upshot is that we laughed more than it seems humanly possible.  We’re both dehydrated. . .me from the flop-sweats in the dressing room, her from laughing so hard she cried.  I am grateful I had my sister to go shopping with.  I did not find a dress, but we had a blast.  I’m not going to try again for a while.  No one can make me. Not even my sister!

 

She started pulling crap off the racks with like an octopus trying to get out of a net.  Beads and glitterieiii whizzed past my head.  “Take this!  And this!  Oooooo this is pretty.” She squealed with glee.  “They won’t fit. . .I hate that color. . .that one has NO color. . .I’ll look like a cadaver in that!” You do not want to go shopping with me.  Ever.  Only a blood relative should have that joy.  “Just try them!” she said.  “You might be surprised!”  Oh boy was I surprised.

So I tried on the blue. . .half. . .because only half went on.  Then I tried on the purple beaded thing and started to scratch like a beagle with fleas.  She brought a funky, one shoulder number into the fitting room just for fun.  Hah!  Her fun, not mine!  When I got it on, laughing hysterically, I pulled out a pouch on the side of the thing looking bewildered. “I wonder what this is for,” my patient sister said, tugging at the thing!  “My LEFT HIP!” I shouted, “I need a special pouch for my left hip.”  We were laughing so hard I couldn’t see.  She snapped a picture with her phone and promised to not put it on Facebook.  But vanity is losing out to humor and I posted it myself!  Enjoy your yuk.

Jungle print was not what I was looking for but it was somewhere close to my size.  Except I think someone must have had a hot hair dryer nearby and the thing was made of shrink-wrap.  As soon as I got it on it started to suck itself to me like the skin of the animal it emulated.  Fwooop!  As I started to roll up out of it, I looked like a snake shedding its’ skin. . .the hard way. “Get me OUTTA this thing,” I shouted.  The more I laughed the harder I sweated and the more it stuck to me.   But my sister couldn’t hear me because she was laughing too hard. . .and being a supportive sister.  .  . taking pictures!  No one can document your life like a sibling! That’s the other picture. 

Then there was the gray.  Gray.  Yes, gray.  Sea-creature-gray.  I grudgingly tried it on.   At least it WENT on, which is more than most of them.  I took one look in the mirror and started making EEE-EEE-EEE noises just like the dolphin I resembled.  My sister melted to the floor, tears running down her face in an exhausted spasm of fresh hysterics.  I could hear people in adjoining dressing rooms laughing.  I know they were poking their heads out when we left to get a peek at the new dressing room act that appears on Monday’s at three.  I can never go back there.  I swear.  I won’t anyway.  I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. . . or my sisters.

We walked the 400-mile maze of a mall from one large department store to another.  Trying on, peeling off, laughing, crying, sweating, swearing. . .oh, that was just me, I guess.  I’d have better success finding the Holy Grail than a new dress.

The upshot is that we laughed more than it seems humanly possible.  We’re both dehydrated. . .me from the flop-sweats in the dressing room, her from laughing so hard she cried.  I am grateful I had my sister to go shopping with.  I did not find a dress, but we had a blast.  I’m not going to try again for a while.  No one can make me. Not even my sister!