Saturday, September 08, 2007
Little Life Lessons Learned at the Mall
My daughter Leslie invited me to go on a shopping trip this weekend, telling me she'd tried to do some clothes shopping with her husband, and found it entirely unsatisfying. She needed a female to go with her this time. Men who shop for anything except tools or hunting equipment seem to either have no opinion, or tell you to just buy "it", in an attempt to end the trip more quickly, completely missing the whole process of browsing. I don't shop much, didn't really need anything, but it sounded like fun, and I'm always up for a mother-daughter outing.
So I have to back up a bit. Up here in Pennsylvania it rains easily. This time of year, once it begins it has a hard time stopping. Saturday is lawn mowing day, but rain was predicted all weekend, and Don's still recovering from a torn miniscus, so I thought I'd help out and mow the lawn Friday, while it was still dry. Then the deck, which is borderline on a good day, looked a mess - downright ratty truth be told. The stain was faded to completely bare in places, some of the wood is a bit beat up, and the flowers have passed their prime. Don power washed the deck a couple of weeks ago, which means he fought off the mildew to a liveable level, and it was my job to throw on some stain. We're hoping to have a few couples over for fall cookouts and I don't cook well enough to make up for what the deck looked like.
On Friday I started my day with a shower, getting ready for a fun appointment which will not be specified but all girls know what doctor appointment we shower for. I knew I was going to mow, but still you have to shower before your checkup. Back from the doctor's appointment, I pulled out the mower. After less than two hours I was done; I was also covered with sweat and dirt from the bare spots in the lawn that had filled the air on my passes over it. I headed inside for shower #2 of the day. For some insane reason, while in the shower washing my hair, I decided it was as good a day as any to stain the deck. I'd go out and get dirty again. I headed out in the horrible clothes I wear to color my hair, which was wet and somewhat stuck to my head. But who needs to look good to stain the deck? It's on the back of my house so nobody would see me. Two hours later the deck looked much better; it now only looks like it could use staining, rather than calling a demolition crew. My son-in-law phoned to ask if he could stop over with Landon for a visit. My hair had now dried into something resembling Bozo the Clown from the wings that had formed as I ran my sweaty hands through it as I worked. There was a band of sweat around my hair-dye stained knit top about a foot wide. I told him, "sure, come on over. I'm a bit of a mess." Bless his heart, he never said a word til right before he left since I'd told him I was leaving at 5 pm. He said, "so where are you going, because you're really dirty?" You have to know Jeremy to understand that one of the things we love about him is his bluntness. You never wonder where you stand with him, he makes it pretty clear. I told him I was going to Panera to work on menu planning. He left, and I headed upstairs for shower #3 of the day. I was so exhausted I did not, just could not, wash my funny-looking hair, but rather wet my hands and ran them through it, got out of the shower and dried it, smooshed some goo in it and called it good. I was too tired to care anymore than that.
This morning, still worn out, I looked at my hair, decided on the flat iron and some more goo, threw on some clothes and was off to shop with Leslie. Not only did my hair look less than lovely, it needed coloring. I'd been way to tired to even consider that yesterday, so I went with the semi-messy look to fluff the roots, hoping to hide them a bit.
We drove to the mall, and went into Ann Taylor Loft. I'd never been there. For some reason I thought it was a store for petites, and I'm 5'10. My older daughter, Sarah had recently suggested I check it out. Leslie agreed - it's a great store, so with two strong votes from my personal fashion police, we headed inside. After looking at the things we'll watch to go on sale, we headed to the 70% off racks. I found a few beautiful tops in chocolate/paisley but $55 is a bit steep to suitmy checkbook the cheapskate in me. Nice women continued to haul armloads of clothing into a stall for me, and eventually Leslie and I ended up in stalls next door to each other.
So here's what I learned, overall. If you wear a size that has double digits, and if you wear underwear that is large enough to cover your entire head with room to spare, and if you were dumb and worked like a dog, completely oblivious to the fact that you're not as young as you used to be so that you have bags under your eyes and that general all-over worn out look, and you decide to go try on clothes, as least have good hair. If you have all the above going on, and you also have bad, bad hair, when you peel off everything except for the head-sized underwear you will think you look awful in everything you try on. Especially if your shopping partner wears size 4, and looks lovely even when her hair is less than perfect.
You will also come home armed with great incentive to eat salads a bit more often. You might come home, put those horrible color-your-hair clothes back on and tidy up your roots just a bit. Which is exactly what I did, because I can fix that in 45 minutes but the head-sized underwear situation will take a bit longer to resolve. Mowing the lawn and staining the deck in 24 hours - that won't happen again.
I would have loved to flop my tired bones in a scalding hot bathtub last night, soaking out some of the hurt. Showering and/or bathing FOUR times in one day? That's just crazy. I took two advil instead.
By the way, Ann Taylor Loft had great sales, and in spite of feeling fat and flabby and out of shape, with awful hair and bags under my eyes, I found a gorgeous pleated skirt originally priced at $69 for $3.88. Thanks God, I needed that!
So I have to back up a bit. Up here in Pennsylvania it rains easily. This time of year, once it begins it has a hard time stopping. Saturday is lawn mowing day, but rain was predicted all weekend, and Don's still recovering from a torn miniscus, so I thought I'd help out and mow the lawn Friday, while it was still dry. Then the deck, which is borderline on a good day, looked a mess - downright ratty truth be told. The stain was faded to completely bare in places, some of the wood is a bit beat up, and the flowers have passed their prime. Don power washed the deck a couple of weeks ago, which means he fought off the mildew to a liveable level, and it was my job to throw on some stain. We're hoping to have a few couples over for fall cookouts and I don't cook well enough to make up for what the deck looked like.
On Friday I started my day with a shower, getting ready for a fun appointment which will not be specified but all girls know what doctor appointment we shower for. I knew I was going to mow, but still you have to shower before your checkup. Back from the doctor's appointment, I pulled out the mower. After less than two hours I was done; I was also covered with sweat and dirt from the bare spots in the lawn that had filled the air on my passes over it. I headed inside for shower #2 of the day. For some insane reason, while in the shower washing my hair, I decided it was as good a day as any to stain the deck. I'd go out and get dirty again. I headed out in the horrible clothes I wear to color my hair, which was wet and somewhat stuck to my head. But who needs to look good to stain the deck? It's on the back of my house so nobody would see me. Two hours later the deck looked much better; it now only looks like it could use staining, rather than calling a demolition crew. My son-in-law phoned to ask if he could stop over with Landon for a visit. My hair had now dried into something resembling Bozo the Clown from the wings that had formed as I ran my sweaty hands through it as I worked. There was a band of sweat around my hair-dye stained knit top about a foot wide. I told him, "sure, come on over. I'm a bit of a mess." Bless his heart, he never said a word til right before he left since I'd told him I was leaving at 5 pm. He said, "so where are you going, because you're really dirty?" You have to know Jeremy to understand that one of the things we love about him is his bluntness. You never wonder where you stand with him, he makes it pretty clear. I told him I was going to Panera to work on menu planning. He left, and I headed upstairs for shower #3 of the day. I was so exhausted I did not, just could not, wash my funny-looking hair, but rather wet my hands and ran them through it, got out of the shower and dried it, smooshed some goo in it and called it good. I was too tired to care anymore than that.
This morning, still worn out, I looked at my hair, decided on the flat iron and some more goo, threw on some clothes and was off to shop with Leslie. Not only did my hair look less than lovely, it needed coloring. I'd been way to tired to even consider that yesterday, so I went with the semi-messy look to fluff the roots, hoping to hide them a bit.
We drove to the mall, and went into Ann Taylor Loft. I'd never been there. For some reason I thought it was a store for petites, and I'm 5'10. My older daughter, Sarah had recently suggested I check it out. Leslie agreed - it's a great store, so with two strong votes from my personal fashion police, we headed inside. After looking at the things we'll watch to go on sale, we headed to the 70% off racks. I found a few beautiful tops in chocolate/paisley but $55 is a bit steep to suit
So here's what I learned, overall. If you wear a size that has double digits, and if you wear underwear that is large enough to cover your entire head with room to spare, and if you were dumb and worked like a dog, completely oblivious to the fact that you're not as young as you used to be so that you have bags under your eyes and that general all-over worn out look, and you decide to go try on clothes, as least have good hair. If you have all the above going on, and you also have bad, bad hair, when you peel off everything except for the head-sized underwear you will think you look awful in everything you try on. Especially if your shopping partner wears size 4, and looks lovely even when her hair is less than perfect.
You will also come home armed with great incentive to eat salads a bit more often. You might come home, put those horrible color-your-hair clothes back on and tidy up your roots just a bit. Which is exactly what I did, because I can fix that in 45 minutes but the head-sized underwear situation will take a bit longer to resolve. Mowing the lawn and staining the deck in 24 hours - that won't happen again.
I would have loved to flop my tired bones in a scalding hot bathtub last night, soaking out some of the hurt. Showering and/or bathing FOUR times in one day? That's just crazy. I took two advil instead.
By the way, Ann Taylor Loft had great sales, and in spite of feeling fat and flabby and out of shape, with awful hair and bags under my eyes, I found a gorgeous pleated skirt originally priced at $69 for $3.88. Thanks God, I needed that!
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