Rod and Justa went shopping yesterday, with my son tagging gamely along, his nose buried in my iPhone.
Justa bought some strapless bras, a sinfully short black dress, short shorts, a drapey graphic T and some super cute shoes. Rod bought a significant-other beater, suspenders, and his first fitted!
(Also purchased in the Men’s dept: belt and wallet. The women’s versions just suck too damn much. I also almost went into the men’s changing room twice. Freudian slip?)
The fitted was the hardest for me to get. I felt extremely transgressive walking into the store. I was glad that I knew exactly what I wanted to get, but when I tried it on it didn’t look right. (It wasn’t till I got home that I realized I needed to tilt the brim up. Going into the store, I tried to act like this white girl buying a fitted was totally normal, and the sales guys played along. (Unlike the time I was buying a men’s hoodie at Tello’s and dude called his friend to tell him about it.)
Buying the shoes was fun. A super-cute, extra thick stud whose tag read “Chris” was working the register, and I exchanged huge smiles with her as I asked for some shoes in my size. Then when I needed another pair this brother helped me out. He started flirting with me…and I started flirting back! What can I say–I’m a flirt? Flirting makes things go smoother and be more fun, and I don’t have to actually like someone to flirt with them–right?
“I like your tattoo.” He said.
“Thanks” I replied, “It mean’s that I bat for Chris’s team.” (No, I just said thanks–sometimes I spit the shit that comes into my head, but usually I chicken out.) Then a customer noticed that his fly was unzipped, and he bashfully zipped his fly up while I cracked a joke about him working the floor half-naked.
Chris came back and I flirted with her some more, wishing that I had an excuse for a real convo with her, but I had to go! (All of the flirting must have done some good, because my shoes mysteriously came out to $25. rather than $45 as it said on the sticker.)
Walking out of the Mall, I was like–wait–did I really spend $20 on suspenders? How often am I really going to wear those? But it’s for an event that I’m going to, and I have this image in my head of how I want to look and I feel compelled to play it out–even if it means buying $20 suspenders!
(Oh, and I got a negative comment about naming aspects of your personality–FYI Rod just kinda named himself. It works for me as a way of thinking about something that I’ve been struggling with since way before I started this blog. It helps, but I don’t take it too seriously.)