I have recently lost some weight and I have one group of jeans in my closet that I am hoping to fit back into some day and another group that I am continuously pulling up and make no sudden moves while wearing them for fear that they will drop to the floor.
Thursday, I went shopping for a couple of new pairs of jeans. I never can find jeans that fit right, so I had pretty much decided that I just don’t like jeans.
I try on several thousand pairs of jeans and they either fit me like grandma pants or my butt cleavage is hanging out.
I’m about to give up when I have an epiphany. My two most favorite pairs of jeans in the history of me were jeans that someone had given me and they were guy’s jeans!!!
I race to the men’s department and find several pair of jeans that look pretty gender neutral, yet still cool, and then race back to the women’s fitting room.
As I am trying on my man jeans…..Trying to have some nice relaxing time to myself….A lady comes into the dressing room next to me. She begins talking REALLY LOUDLY on her cell phone.
Her name is Suzanne. Her husband’s name is Mark. Her horse shoer’s name is Brian. (Brian is who she is speaking very loudly on the phone with.) Suzanne is thinking about buying a new horse for some girl, who’s name I actually can’t remember, to ride. The horse is, apparently, a pretty amazing show horse but it needs special shoes. Suzanne needs to schedule Brian, the horse shoer, to come shoe all of her horses but if she buys the show horse, she is going to sell another horse, but she doesn’t know if she is or not, so she guesses she should just call Brian back when she figures everything out.
So…From the protection of my very own dressing room where my peace and happy are being ruined, I say, “SSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And then. I am afraid. To leave. The. Dressing Room.
I finally leave without any confrontation with Suzanne and TWO fabulous pairs of guy jeans that neither look like grandma pants or reveal all my butt cleavage to the world and I absolutely LOVE them.
The next day I have my eyebrows waxed. I enter the salon with two okay eyebrows that just need a little shaping up. The eyebrow waxer sends me back into the world with only one and a half eyebrows.
I’m pretty sure that eyebrow waxer’s name is Karma, and I have a suspicion that she was watching out for Suzanne….