Tuesday, July 6, 2010

If the dress fits...

Holy strawberries, Batman! We're in a jam!--Robin (Batman and Robin)

I was in the store with my mom when it happened. I left her in the “Mom Section” and ventured out on my own. My shopping senses picked up a scent and my nose shot up in the air to take a whiff. I turned my head to the left and spotted a red and yellow sign.

70% Off. Hot damn!

I combed the first rack and right on the edge sat a black and white dress. I spotted the little pink sales sticker…$59.99 marked down to $17.99! Oh, be still my beating heart! Yeah, I'm a sale slut.
I snatched it up and held it at arm’s length to mentally scan my shoes and belts for possible matches. It was worth a try-on so I slung it over my arm and headed back to find mom.

“Oh, that’s really cute. Where did you get it?” She asked.
I pointed in the direction of the sales rack. “Over there where it says 70% off.”
“Where? Over here?” I moved my eyes slowly in the direction of her voice. My head joined in a few seconds later.
What the…?
“Oh, I see it.” She said as she ran her hands along the clothes.
Was she looking for her size? No. Couldn’t be.
“That’s not my size.” She mumbled.
I heard the music from Psycho play over the loud speaker.
“Do you see my size?”
My brain ceased all functions and I moved on auto pilot towards her.
“I found one.” She said.
I screamed and passed out. Oh, wait. That only happened in my head.
“I’m going to try it on, too.”
Aw hell. A generator kicked in and jolted my brain. I needed a plan. Okay. After I put my head between my knees and gnawed my lip off, I was going to tell her it didn’t fit. Problem solved.
But my little 7-year-old clone followed me. She perched herself on the small seat and waited patiently. If I didn’t try that dress on she was going to snitch. Dammit! Bullied by my own kid.
I picked up the dress, wrestled it over my head, and tugged it down. It was hideous. Yes!
“I don’t like it!” I shouted over the wall.
“Me either!” She shouted back.
I zoomed out of the fitting area, jumped onto Denial, and rode it right out of the mall.

I rode along for a minute or two before Denial needed a tune-up. I spotted Flabbergasted and Discombobulated across the street. They had a full tank of gas and were headed to L.A., so I hitched a ride.

I love my mom dearly. But, she’s 68-years-old. She has her own style and I have mine. They don’t play well together and until that day had stayed in their own corners. Either they had watched Elmo and learned a lesson in sharing or something was wrong.
Had I really reached that point in my life? Impossible.

I rolled my eyes to the top of my head and looked around. P.Y.T. was trying on lip gloss and G&S was reading a book. I glanced over at Style Duchess. Yeah, I have one of those and some others I’m sure you’ll meet over time.

She had a sign on her door. “Gone to the spa xoxoxo,” it read.

That was it! She does that periodically and it’s cool because even she needs a break. When she’s on vacation I know not to go within twenty miles of a store. But, she snuck off without warning and I was tagged by a matronly dress. Obviously.

To save myself from myself, the next time I go shopping with my mom I'm burying my wallet in the yard and handcuffing my hands to my belt loops. I'm not taking any chances.