I am an asshole.
No, wait. I know, but it gets better. I am a stupid asshole.
So I call the BFF up, because of this whole Blogher thing (which I know she’s sort of jealous that she’s not going, even though she isn’t really all that into the internet) and tell her that I have nothing to wear and that the conference is like three weeks away and I probably should think about planning some sort of wardrobe, and you know what that means.
“SHOPPING!” We both reply in unison.
And I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but the BFF loves to shop. Especially for dresses. Along with her [lack of] internal filter, this is one of the many things I love about her. Because I used to love to shop, and I was good at picking out flattering clothes and all that, but having popped out two spawn in two years, the last thing I wanted to do is try on clothes that show off that really attractive front butt. My new body wasn’t what I ordered and I had no idea how to pick something out that accentuated the good parts, and hid the ugly parts.
One of my big treats to myself, once I hit goal (that’s Weight Watchers lingo for “once Mama becomes hot again, or gets her groove back, or achieves the desired weight loss that she is after.” Or something. Goal is the WW buzzword), was to go on a shopping spree and replace all the baggy clothes and find things that are functional and cute, and also things that are completely uneccessary. Because everyone needs a little uneccessary in their wardrobe. I was planning on waiting until my sister came home, and make her go with me to the mall, as payment for all of the times she threw me under the bus and got me in trouble. Like it was my fault she happened to get locked outside during a thunderstorm. Whatever. And of course, the BFF wants to go too (see above RE: shopping). So we’re going to make a night of it, but since blogher is before that, I had to find a few things to tide me over and make myself look presentable.
I bet you’re still waiting around to find out why I’m such a stupid asshole, right? Yeah, my signature detour blogging lives on. Right-o! Moving on, then.
So last night, the BFF and I started shopping for a few things, namely a cute little LBD or something. Anything. Maybe some cute capris or bermudas. So we’re at the store, pulling shit off the rack left and right. “OOOH, look at these cute capris and they’re on sale.” I take an arm load of stuff back to the fitting room, and she’s at this point probably wondering why I’m not trying on the pants. Like, “yeah, hello, we’ve seen each other in the locker room, there’s no need to be bashful.”
“Yeah, well, um, I’m not trying on pants today. You see, I totally just realized that I forgot to wear underwear.”
And she kind of looks at me like, “um, what?”
“Yeah, I was taking a shower and the kids were screaming and I was rushing and I put my clothes on quickly.” (somehow, I managed to remember to go back and put a bra on)
“Yyyyyyyyyyyyeah, you’re an asshole.”
“I was wondering why my shorts kept giving me a wedgie.”