Shopping With Ashley
As a general rule, I shop alone.
My mother and Mia Sorella can probably vouch for the reason: I am not much fun to take shopping. Especially for clothes. I don't start with an adventuresome spirit and the more suggestions I get from other people, the more I clam up. And the more I clam up, the crabbier I get. Eventually, I can only be appeased by coffee or adult beverages and by then the shopping had best be over.
Today, I decided to venture into town to take care of some pre-trip shopping. I needed jeans, a couple of long-sleeved shirts that could get a little beaten, travel-sized shampoo -- that kind of thing. The jeans were easy (I almost always go to the same store and I know my size ... or I thought I did. I ended up buying a size smaller today, which made me jump up and down cheering in the fitting room) but after that, the self-conversations began.
A typical self-conversation goes something like this:
"Ashley, you should really consider something more colorful."
"But all these colors are horrible."
"Maybe we'll have better luck at a different store."
"Did you just say 'we' like there's more than one of us?"
"Shut up and pick something. I'm tired of this."
"Okay. This isn't terrible. Actually, I kind of like it."
"Of course you do. It's practically the same color as the very shirt you're wearing. Branch out a bit, would you?"
"Fine! This one!"
"That one? Really?"
"That does it. I'm not talking to you."
And so it went with every other shirt I considered.
It was a fairly successful day, despite the usual self-arguments and the fact that my careful timing backfired. I thought that a Thursday afternoon right after all those 9-5ers ended their lunch breaks was a great day to get some shopping done. Alas, this particular Thursday must be a teacher inservice day, as I was surrounded by kids and parents getting their shopping done as well. Nothing like the self-arguments mingled with tweener girls fighting their mothers to make for an altogether colorful experience.
With that behind me, it's no surprise I retreated to the B once again. It's quieter here. Calmer. And hey, they're playing the new Hugh Laurie blues album, which makes me happy.
Maybe this coffee will help me survive just one more store ... Then I can seriously consider a beer.
My mother and Mia Sorella can probably vouch for the reason: I am not much fun to take shopping. Especially for clothes. I don't start with an adventuresome spirit and the more suggestions I get from other people, the more I clam up. And the more I clam up, the crabbier I get. Eventually, I can only be appeased by coffee or adult beverages and by then the shopping had best be over.
Today, I decided to venture into town to take care of some pre-trip shopping. I needed jeans, a couple of long-sleeved shirts that could get a little beaten, travel-sized shampoo -- that kind of thing. The jeans were easy (I almost always go to the same store and I know my size ... or I thought I did. I ended up buying a size smaller today, which made me jump up and down cheering in the fitting room) but after that, the self-conversations began.
A typical self-conversation goes something like this:
"Ashley, you should really consider something more colorful."
"But all these colors are horrible."
"Maybe we'll have better luck at a different store."
"Did you just say 'we' like there's more than one of us?"
"Shut up and pick something. I'm tired of this."
"Okay. This isn't terrible. Actually, I kind of like it."
"Of course you do. It's practically the same color as the very shirt you're wearing. Branch out a bit, would you?"
"Fine! This one!"
"That one? Really?"
"That does it. I'm not talking to you."
And so it went with every other shirt I considered.
It was a fairly successful day, despite the usual self-arguments and the fact that my careful timing backfired. I thought that a Thursday afternoon right after all those 9-5ers ended their lunch breaks was a great day to get some shopping done. Alas, this particular Thursday must be a teacher inservice day, as I was surrounded by kids and parents getting their shopping done as well. Nothing like the self-arguments mingled with tweener girls fighting their mothers to make for an altogether colorful experience.
With that behind me, it's no surprise I retreated to the B once again. It's quieter here. Calmer. And hey, they're playing the new Hugh Laurie blues album, which makes me happy.
Maybe this coffee will help me survive just one more store ... Then I can seriously consider a beer.
Comments