Success! (Almost)
Yesterday I went shopping with the lovely Mal. I was in search of something appropriate to wear on one of my outings in the Real Big City. I don't know why I'm surprised that I returned home virtually empty-handed because I think I must be the worst shopper in the history of bad shoppers.
We happened along a fancy underwear store and when we found a fantastic sale on undies, we had to stop in. There's just something about nice underpants that young girls can't walk away from. I managed to get a major deal on a mass quantity of underwear and I have to say that no person in this world can own too many of two items: Socks and underwear. There is just no such thing as too many.
While in the store, I decided to splurge and buy myself a new set of boobs. Most women my age go bra shopping; not me. I go boob-shopping because for some reason the God of Bra Design decided that anyone requiring a bra in such a small size as mine automatically needs all the help she can get. This help generaly comes in the form of aqua-padding, foam padding, and air lift padding. I must say that my favorite is the air-lift padding, but sadly, my last two air lift bras got deflated when my mom stuck them in the dryer. Let this be a warning to all those who are fans of air-lift padding: Don't leave your good bras within the reach of well-meaning family members who insist that your life will not be complete until every last article you own is full clean.
Unfortunately, my body hates me and because of my odd shape this particular store didn't carry any in my unique size. It seems that my ribcage is abnormally large, and my chest is abnormally small, and as a result? There are very few stores in the world where I can buy bras.
Disheartened, but not ready to give up, Mal and I headed to Shopper's Drug Mart to pick up a curling iron. It seems that now that I've reached the age of twenty two and a half, people think it's time for me to learn how to style my own hair. This way, every time I need to go anywhere, I won't first have to go either to the salon or Mal's place to have my hair fixed. Once there, I was faced with choices between hundreds of curling irons and I must say that it is quite overwhelming to be faced with such choices when you haven't the foggiest clue as to what you're going to do with this new piece of equipment. Feeling frustrated, I grabbed the first one that I saw and I bought it. It has twenty five heat settings and each on is for a different type of hair. Now, pray tell, how do you know if you have thick, hard to curl hair versus thinner, takes well to curls hair? Clearly the solution is to put it on the hottest setting possible, spray the hell out of it while it's curling, and then spray the hell out of it again once you're done. Hopefully this works out. But don't be surprised if the next picture you see of me shows a half-bald me with hair singed off left, right, and centre.
After the hair products fiasco, and without any well-fitting bras, with a slew of new underwear in tow, we decided that it was time to look for an outfit. Oh. My. Lord. I hate buying clothes at the best of times, and I had assumed that because I've lost some weight recently, it would be exciting and thrilling to try on clothes and look slinky and sexy.
Unfortunately, no one even slightly larger than a size three should ever try on any of the clothes stores have on hand for clubbing, because even though my back fat has shrunk down considerably, I still look like someone sporting enough blubber to insulate a beluga when I put on certain outfits. I decided to just buy a pair of pants, for now, and Mal and I were finished our excursion, feeling slightly deflated and exhausted after a particularly bad day.
Of course, one thing that can make even the worst of days better was on our minds: Beer. So we headed to the beer store and picked ourselves up four 950mL cans of beer, and I have to say that this investment improved our moods considerably. We decided to take it one step further and we bought bacon, cheese, and bread and had bacon-cheese bakes that Mal invented long ago.
And even though I'm oddly shaped and no bras out there fit me; even though I have a twenty-five tempurature settings curling iron that I haven't a clue how to use; even though every outfit I tried on made me look like a beached whale; well, I have to say this.
Nothing beats a good night of hard drinking and face-stuffing with one of the best friends a girl could ask for. Mal, Hunny, I'm sorry you had a rotten day: If nothing else, we've got each other and we've got beer. While it may not always be the most comforting thing in the world, please know that whenever you need someone to help hang up your new shower curtain with yarn? You've got a friend in me.
Toonses
We happened along a fancy underwear store and when we found a fantastic sale on undies, we had to stop in. There's just something about nice underpants that young girls can't walk away from. I managed to get a major deal on a mass quantity of underwear and I have to say that no person in this world can own too many of two items: Socks and underwear. There is just no such thing as too many.
While in the store, I decided to splurge and buy myself a new set of boobs. Most women my age go bra shopping; not me. I go boob-shopping because for some reason the God of Bra Design decided that anyone requiring a bra in such a small size as mine automatically needs all the help she can get. This help generaly comes in the form of aqua-padding, foam padding, and air lift padding. I must say that my favorite is the air-lift padding, but sadly, my last two air lift bras got deflated when my mom stuck them in the dryer. Let this be a warning to all those who are fans of air-lift padding: Don't leave your good bras within the reach of well-meaning family members who insist that your life will not be complete until every last article you own is full clean.
Unfortunately, my body hates me and because of my odd shape this particular store didn't carry any in my unique size. It seems that my ribcage is abnormally large, and my chest is abnormally small, and as a result? There are very few stores in the world where I can buy bras.
Disheartened, but not ready to give up, Mal and I headed to Shopper's Drug Mart to pick up a curling iron. It seems that now that I've reached the age of twenty two and a half, people think it's time for me to learn how to style my own hair. This way, every time I need to go anywhere, I won't first have to go either to the salon or Mal's place to have my hair fixed. Once there, I was faced with choices between hundreds of curling irons and I must say that it is quite overwhelming to be faced with such choices when you haven't the foggiest clue as to what you're going to do with this new piece of equipment. Feeling frustrated, I grabbed the first one that I saw and I bought it. It has twenty five heat settings and each on is for a different type of hair. Now, pray tell, how do you know if you have thick, hard to curl hair versus thinner, takes well to curls hair? Clearly the solution is to put it on the hottest setting possible, spray the hell out of it while it's curling, and then spray the hell out of it again once you're done. Hopefully this works out. But don't be surprised if the next picture you see of me shows a half-bald me with hair singed off left, right, and centre.
After the hair products fiasco, and without any well-fitting bras, with a slew of new underwear in tow, we decided that it was time to look for an outfit. Oh. My. Lord. I hate buying clothes at the best of times, and I had assumed that because I've lost some weight recently, it would be exciting and thrilling to try on clothes and look slinky and sexy.
Unfortunately, no one even slightly larger than a size three should ever try on any of the clothes stores have on hand for clubbing, because even though my back fat has shrunk down considerably, I still look like someone sporting enough blubber to insulate a beluga when I put on certain outfits. I decided to just buy a pair of pants, for now, and Mal and I were finished our excursion, feeling slightly deflated and exhausted after a particularly bad day.
Of course, one thing that can make even the worst of days better was on our minds: Beer. So we headed to the beer store and picked ourselves up four 950mL cans of beer, and I have to say that this investment improved our moods considerably. We decided to take it one step further and we bought bacon, cheese, and bread and had bacon-cheese bakes that Mal invented long ago.
And even though I'm oddly shaped and no bras out there fit me; even though I have a twenty-five tempurature settings curling iron that I haven't a clue how to use; even though every outfit I tried on made me look like a beached whale; well, I have to say this.
Nothing beats a good night of hard drinking and face-stuffing with one of the best friends a girl could ask for. Mal, Hunny, I'm sorry you had a rotten day: If nothing else, we've got each other and we've got beer. While it may not always be the most comforting thing in the world, please know that whenever you need someone to help hang up your new shower curtain with yarn? You've got a friend in me.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 10:12
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