Adventures in Retail Therapy

Well, this is…puzzling. I went, I shopped, I have no merchandise. Following a quick bite to eat I decided I needed some retail therapy. With last week’s stress of daycare closing (I think we are out of the woods, not 100% but pretty sure) and this past weekend’s *cough* *cough* *cough* still echoing in my head I needed a little Jenn Time. I was in hot pursuit of a new purse, Mom….don’t judge. Strolling through the aisles that were rather on the slim pickens side I spied a Guess purse that I was ‘in like’ with. An older gal picked up one, in a different color, and solicited my opinion. I said ‘I like it!’ She proceeded to thank me and inform me it was a Birthday present for her 70 year old gal pal. *blank stare*….and back to the rack went that purse!! (Any of my 70+ friends around here, take no offense I ♥ YA!) Okay, shoes. Shoes’ll do?! I have big feet so I was really gambling on that idea. Size 10 is a squeeze but in a good brand, they fit. Problemo. Size 10 a-l-w-a-y-s on the bottom…..and there went 25 boxes of shoes scattered all over the shoe department. If that wasn’t bad enough my Amazonian feet wouldn’t fit in anything. It was then I decided to give up. This whole retail therapy was going about as well as going to your skinny friend and expecting empathy on an ‘I’m a big ol fatty’ day. So I walked out. I felt like a shoplifter. As I pulled out of the parking lot I suffered my last bout of humiliation. Apparently I had Ludacris up next on my mix CD and this awkward Iowa white girl turned fifty shades of red as people began to stare as his lyrics wafted through the open sunroof. I quickly changed to the next track which was a much more acceptable Kelly Clarkson song. So I emptily traveled back to work with the sad sounds of adult contemporary hugging me like a distant Uncle. Feeling unfulfilled and ill at ease.