What I did receive was a very last minute phone call to see my orthopedic surgeon. As much as I did not want to go to Fredericton, it was pay day and actually a good day to take off work. It could not have worked out any better - Yay.
I have spent very little time in Fredericton in the last decade. I went with Becca to the Kia Dealership once (and no further) and have made a few trips past Fredericton, to Oromocto. But, in terms of being in the depths of NB's lovely capital - that would have taken place in 2004, I believe.
I'm a pretty independent lady. I've traveled all over, moved to towns and cities I never even visited first, and managed to get myself around just fine. I wasn't too concerned about this trip, but I also had no idea what was going to happen at this appointment. Luckily, Becca needed to also go to Fredericton and was able to reschedule her own appointment to accompany me. I had done the same for her not too long ago - except in the wonderful city of Saint John - so there wasn't too much shame involved...and now we're even. Independent ladies, unite!
The appointment is soon over, and we're venturing back to the Parking Garage. We back up and Miss-Must-Be-In-Control...uh, that would be me. If you actually know Becca or I in real life, I'm sure you did not need any clarification. Anyways, Miss-Must-Be-In-Control provided some quite confident directions as to how to exit said parking garage. We're rolling along and - Car!!!! This car was - in my defense, going WAY too fast. However, in their defense...we were going the wrong way.
Me: We're going the wrong way!!
Her: I know.
Me: Why didn't you say something?
Her: Oh...I don't know.
Me: What, really?
Her: Yea.
Me: Seriously?
Her: Going the wrong way was less risky for me personally, than pointing out that you were wrong.
Me: So, you purposefully headed into ongoing traffic opposed to telling me I was wrong?
Her: Yup.
In her defense, she may have been right, or close to it.
Some things really are just like riding a bike - the lovely city came back to me just like that. We found all our desired locations. As we went about our day, I was recalling a variety of streets, directions, places, etc. Becca also kindly introduced me to some new roads and ways of getting about...
Her: This is the way I took the last time Grammy and I went to my dealer...
Me: Huh?
Her: Dealer...as in dealership...as in Kia...
Me: Oh.
We hit up Relish (so good, but also so not good for me) and venture on. Becca takes me to this AMAZING used book store.
If you live in the Fredericton area, visit the Fredericton area of even know where the Fredericton area is The Owl's Nest Book Store is a must. It is a never ending used book store. I was in my glory...Shelf after shelf, room after room, witty category after witty category - complete with a rolling ladder. You could even swing from the ladder and sing like Belle, while you select your books.
This was something I really wanted to do, but it was turned down by my partner in crime. Since she introduced me to this magical place, I obeyed her wishes. I will save this adventure for my next visit. As I sadly checked out of the store, I decided on one final request - to spend my next life as the stores chubby, grey cat - Pepper, enjoying all of my days snuggled up on the Children's Section couch.
Dreams come true here, I'm sure of it.
Now, it might have been pay day, but Winter Recovery 2015 is in full effect and funds are limited. However, I have a few events coming up in the next couple of months and it would be nice to have an outfit that fits me correctly. I decide I'm going to peak at some sales racks.
Shopping and I have a love/hate relationship. I love fashion, I love purchasing things. But, I hate buying clothes for myself. It is typically a horrible and depressing experience. I am down 30 lbs. So, naturally - I'm thinking it is going to be exciting to go shopping.
Oh Dear Lord, no...I start off by quite proudly selecting a smaller size. Yea...this was not a good idea. I apparently was feeling realllly confident - because I also selected sleeveless items to show off my sagging arm fat and short garments for my never ending torso. So, you get the picture here, right? Whatever amazing shopping experience I dreamed up - was just that...a dream! I came down off my high horse pretty quick.
I put on the first shirt.
Me: What do you think?
Her: Mmmm - no...
Me: Really?
Her: Really...
Me: Huh...okay. *insert shoulder shrug*
Next shirt...
Me: What about this one?
Her: Mmmm - no...
Me: REALLY?
Her: Really.
Me: REALLY?!?
Her: Really...
Frig sake.
As I'm putting on another item I hear one of the attendant's come in...
A: Can I help you with something?
Her: No, I'm just here for moral support.
Me: *shouting from the changing room* And she sucks at it!!
Her: You always say you wish I would speak up and be honest.
Me: Yea well, I'm really sick of you being right today.
I leave the room, sift through the sales rack again. Now that I've returned to reality, I realize that there is nothing there for me. We head to another store, then another store, then another store.
I can't even believe this!...I really anticipated a more positive shopping excursion. As we leave the current store, I vow that I'm only visiting one final store. We have already spent far more time than I had planned on this endeavour.
We enter. We look. I can't find the dreaded plus size section...Fine, I think. I'll ask. A lady comes near that thankfully is NOT a size 4, 8 or even a 10. Phew. I am feeling comfortable asking for directions. Certainly no fault of this poor lady - but the plus size section is a bit on the wee side for a department store and she informs me that plus size dresses are "just mixed in". At first, I'm like...Hell yea!! I check the tag on every.single.dress. I found ONE plus size dress...out of probably 200 dresses.
The ambition is so far gone, I can't even see it running away from me. I drag myself to the fitting room, and it goes a little something like this:
Ugh.
If I had to, I suppose...
Gag. (The one dress I searched hopelessly for - is a mumu. A very not flattering mumu).
I'm over it.
Becca swoops in and encourages me to finish up what I brought in. This is the only reason she was forgiven for all of her previous wise cracks. I slide on the next shirt and...finally! Something decent. It looks nice. I felt good wearing it. Let's get outta here!
I was feeling pretty defeated. I have changed my entire life, and I anticipated a mediocre experience, at the very least. I still hate shopping for my own clothes, how disappointing! But, I found a shirt. As hard as it is to not dwell on the fact that I tried on several items and only found one (even though I only needed one) and spent twice the amount of time doing so - I found something, one something - when I could have found nothing at all.
That shirt couldn't have come at a better time. My feet and thighs were screaming. I painfully return to the car, swearing to myself for wearing a maxi skirt for easy access (to my knee, people!) and not realizing I was going to be shopping for one item for hours. I put in 9000 steps in that skirt and the chub rub was on fire! My thighs were so happy when it was time to settle in for the drive home. Oh, and the feet - which I didn't complain about at the time, because I was trying to get away with the fact that I wore Becca's shoes.
It was certainly an interesting day - I wouldn't expect any less. When I made it home, I snuggled up and tried to only think about my new shirt, my new books and looking forward to my long weekend... I also decided being cremated is my last hope for a smoking hot body.
No comments:
Post a Comment