It never fails to depress me.
I know, I know. Something must be wrong. Why in the world would shopping depress me? Is it a hormone imbalance? A female glandular problem?
It's the size of my rear. And the gray hair. And the little lines I'm starting to see on my face. And my bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyeballs. And the mirrors...for the love of all that is holy, why do we have to have so many GODFORSAKEN MIRRORS in the JCPenny's dressing room???!!!
And I wish the gorgeous, twenty-something model on the Photoshopped perfume poster would stop staring at me.
I want a stylist.
I want someone to pick clothes off the rack for me that make me look fabulous and I will never have to look in the mirror again.
Oh, yeah. Make them seriously on clearance, too.
I mean it, folks. I need help.
So my two good pairs of jeans have holes in the knees and the rear end. In the eighties, I would have been super hip. Pair that with some sky-high Aqua Net hair and a Spuds McKenzie T-shirt and I would be a veridable fashion maven.
But on a thirty-three-year-old mommy, it just looks like I'm trying too hard.
Today I actually had time and funds to go do some shopping. So I head to the mall, mustering up what little optimism I have left from the last shopping trip.
I begin in Macy's and, once again, have the same, sinking feeling I have every time I go shopping:
Is it just me, or is everything made for teenagers and grandmothers?
I mean, I can either have a shirt that is skin tight and navel-baring or I can have a zip-up, Christmas cardigan, embellished with sequin teddy bears and snowflakes.
WHERE'S THE IN BETWEEN?????!!!!
I don't want a pink, cable-knit sweater set, but I don't want the see-through, Paris Hilton-esque, camisole, either.
So, how am I supposed to vear from my old standby of jeans and V-neck black knit shirt? How do I find a style that says "Yes, I am a mom, but I'm not looking at condos in Florida?" or "Me-ow, do you like what you see?"
So, what did I buy?
And jeans and a V-neck knit shirt.
But it's blue.