three pugs & a baby: { in which i put my dignity in the hands of a fitting room attendent }

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

{ in which i put my dignity in the hands of a fitting room attendent }

MacGyver has been traveling with Turtle the last few days. They took a trip to visit Grandma and PopPop for their birthdays, leaving me at home to fend for myself.

It was rough. Really.

I only finished painting the loft, rearranged furniture, replanted all the dead things in the garden, took myself to see The Sorcerer's Apprentice starring the ever-phenomenal Nicolas Cage, photographed the evil hornets building a nest on my house, and watched lots of lots of Bravo TV while drinking pinot noir.

I missed the boys, I did.

But I was productive.

Anyway, I realized I was off my game yesterday. I really wasn't hungry when I got to the movies and passed on popcorn. When I went to Hobby Lobby, thinking to buy fabric to make drapes for the loft. I left with nothing. Zilch. Zip. And I figured that I would be hungry at that point, and thought I would get Chick-Fil-A from next door to Hobby Lobby, but alas. I was not. And so I drove home sans waffle fries.

INCONCEIVABLE.

So when I wandered into Old Navy today, in search of a pair of jeans, I should have known something odd would happen.

Old Navy and I have a funky history. Nothing ever fits me quite right. I'l be between sizes, or the shoulders are too wide while the length is too short. I'll visit every year or so, in the hopes of finding something cute, and sometimes I win. But most of the time I strike out.

I wandered around. I selected a few pairs of jeans. They were boot cut and classic rise (AKA, the "new mom jean"). Which I hoped translated to something slightly more than 1" above my naughty bits. I found a couple of tops, too.

And then I went to the fitting room, where (we'll call her Suzie Q) ushered me into a stall and brightly announced that she would be happy to help me with anything I needed and to let her know if I needed another size or style of something.

I tried on the first pair of jeans, and realized that I was a size smaller than I thought. Joy! So, riding my euphoria high, I stuck my head out the door, handed the too-large pair to Suzie Q and asked if she could get me the next size down (in long).

She was gone a while.

When she returned, she had an armload of jeans. She said they didn't have the rinse I wanted in my size, but she had brought a lighter rinse, a flare leg style and... a skinny jean.

I gave her the look. She held her ground. I said "Ok. I'll try. But if you hear a scream, that was me. Send help."

So back in I went. The correct size in the flare and the bootleg were ok. Not phenomenal, but ok. Classic rise went pretty much up to my belly button, and I'm not really a high waist kind of gal. I figured I could try one of the "lower rises" when I was done trying on the shirts.

And then I figured, what the hell, I could use a laugh. And pulled on the skinny jeans.

The mirror didn't shatter.

I tried on a top.

And then I didn't know what to do. Because I didn't really resemble a stuffed sausage. There was no muffin top. And I wasn't sure how to proceed.

So I opened the door and summoned Suzie Q.

Me: So. Tell me about your mirrors. Do you have those funky mirrors where people think they look good and then get home and weep hysterically because the mirrors were a lie?

Suzie Q: Actually, no. The mirrors are pretty good.

Me: Ok. So... Be honest with me. Are these ok?

Suzie Q: They look fantastic on you.

Me: I want you to tell me the truth. I'm going to buy a pair of jeans either way and I promise not to get mad and no matter what you say I'll write a glowing review of you to your manager for being honest.

Suzie Q: I'm telling you the truth. They look really good on you.

Me (getting panicky): I am over 30. And I'm a mother. And I am not hip. (whispering) Do my thighs look insanely huge?

Suzie Q: Turn around. No. See? Your butt looks great. The other styles of jeans sometimes have this weird baggy thing going on (I guess this is where we became friends, because she turned around and started pinching under her cheeks to demonstrate the weird baggy thing. Come to think of it, she wasn't wearing skinny jeans...). You don't have that with those.

Me: So I can get these and wear them in public and people are not going to laugh at me? Because they're kind of comfortable...

Suzie Q: No one is going to laugh. You look great. I promise. And they are comfy. They look like they shouldn't be. But they are.

So I did it.

I brought those skinny jeans to the checkout and paid for them and put them in my car.

And they are now in my drawer.

I took some pictures of myself and sent them to my fashion guru friend in Austin who declared them "hawt" and told me some nonsense about having long legs and being able to wear flats with them without looking stubby.