So, first of all – I really don’t like to shop for clothes. It’s just no fun. You have to hunt through racks, guess at sizes, haul things into the changing room.
And, I am always amazed that women, at least, ever buy anything they’ve tried on. The changing rooms are small, often filled with the clothes others have discarded, and have terrible lighting. Honestly, the lighting reflects your every bump, bulge, and wrinkle. I usually take one look and run screaming out.
Then, if you need a larger/smaller size, you have to get dressed again, carry your stuff out, find a different size (if you’re lucky) and do it all again.
|Not so much|
I don’t mind walking through antique stores, curio shops, herb shops, tea shops, local artist shops, even the occasional tourist shop. Clothes? No, not so much.
I got up this morning with the thought that I had to drive to Rosenberg and go to the Brazos Town Center – the closest version of a mall we have available without going into the city. The stores are all standalone buildings – not connected or under a single roof. Plus half of them are on one side of Hwy 59; the rest on the other side. Oh, and is there some sort of connecting driveway or walkway? Oh. Hell. No. And, with 59 so completely torn up, it is a royal pain in the patootie to get from one side to the other.
Now, this is going to sound like a non sequitur, but it’ll come together, I promise. When my daughter was here visiting, she asked me how long it would take her to get from my house in Wharton to Houston Hobby Airport. Honestly, only the gods know. Hwy 59 is a screaming bloody mess (some idiot decided we need a new highway in the middle of this perfectly good existing one). Could take her 2 hours, could take much longer. I always tell her – assume the worst; leave early.
Off I went to Rosenberg. It’s not far – 30-odd miles to the shopping center – normally takes me 30 minutes. And, about 10 miles into the drive, the traffic stopped. Stopped completely. Not moving even a little. Turn off the car stopped. And stayed stopped for 45 (FORTY-FIVE) minutes.
This is why I tell people to assume the worst about Hwy 59.
Of course, there was the odd or three drivers that decided to “get off anyway possible”. I watched a couple of autos/trucks make 10-point turns, drive along the grassy esplanade (no shoulder here) that is saturated with water from 5 days of rain and drive the wrong way to the next exit. Of course, I have no idea how those dolts thought they’d get to the exit itself, as it was on the other side of bumper to bumper stopped with no place to go traffic.
Idiots, fools, morons, twits, cretins, dimwits …...
When the traffic did finally start moving again – 45 minutes later – the only thing I ultimately saw was (1) an 18-wheeler pulled onto the grass, (2) an unsquashed SUV also on the side of the road, and (3) about 80-dozen police cars, all lights flashing. Oh well, I console myself – it would have been worst. Last month an 18-wheeler tumped over and lay on its side blocking 59 for 3 days. That was interesting. Anyway, on I went to the dreaded department store.
I was looking for a dress to wear to the ballet tomorrow. Not so hard. Right? Argh!
OK – I just have to ask. Do you think designers purposely come up with supremely unattractive clothes that only look moderately decent on manikins, models, and a very few young women? Or is it just the universe laughing at us as we get older.
I had to look at my phone to double check what year this is. Every dress I saw, honestly, came right out of the 1970’s. I swear, I wore some of those already. The biggest difference – today’s dresses are very light weight and full of spandex. They are also glow in the dark bright and most covered with big flowers. I left dress-less.
I think I need a glass of wine or three.