I hate clothes shopping. Hate it. A couple of weeks ago we went to Kohl’s to go shopping, and I was hanging out with Lloyd as he effortlessly looked through the clearance racks. I had already done a brief foray into the womens’ stuff, and was mentally maxed out after five minutes. There’s just so much stuff! So many choices! You’re supposed to try things on, which is a step that I prefer to skip. I’d rather buy it, take it home, and if I don’t like it, have every intention to return it (but usually don’t).
Anyway, standing in the men’s department and wishing I was dead, I overheard a guy – just a regular guy – talking to his girlfriend as he held up a shirt, “See, I could wear this with a black shirt underneath.” I wanted to choke him – throw him up against a wall and pound the information out of him, raging against my lack of knowledge and skills in putting myself together in a stylish manner: “How do you know?? How do you know what to put together?? Was there some sort of class that I missed long ago?? Was there also a course in makeup and hair?? *sob* It’s too late for me….”