I have been busy but I can't post much, as the intended recipient of my recent efforts also reads this blog. But this post is a bit different.
READ IF YOU DARE!
Yes we grow older, albeit at different rates but our mind is always caught off guard. This is a little tale of shopping....when your body is no longer.........the low side of 65.
It was time to replace those two indispensable items of clothing. They're the ones you wear until they are practically rags. They're old friends......but friends that just don't support you anymore.
Yes ladies.........
JEANS and BRAS.
Alas, the need to replace them fell in the same week.
While kids love having holes in the their jeans I'm just not comfortable when the crotch finally gives way. And the bra? When you put a finger through the material..... I'd say there is no support left there.
Have I ever mentioned I hate shopping? I NEVER shop. Hubby swears the steam is rising from my ears BEFORE I leave the house. I left him home! Where to go? The mall of course. Nobody TOLD me the mall is for the under twenty and the pre puberty crowd.
I started in S^^^^^s. This was where I had purchased
support for years? When was the last time? I can't remember.
I was hard pressed to ....
A) Find the Lingerie section and
B) find my boxed brand.
Never did find it.
So I was reduced to TRYING ON brassieres. At least 20, I swear. When your flesh has lost all integrity, the "GIRLS" try to escape, any which way. They're creative that way. As I rejected style after style and size after size, the staff drifted away......never to be seen again, leaving me to solve this dilemma on my own.
But I persevered and 2 hours later, clutching 2 "bras?" as if they were my ticket out of this Torture Chamber, I wandered around the store until I found a sales desk.
I KNEW I should have called it quits and gone home to lick my wounds and try for the jeans another day. 😓
I wandered, innocently out into the mall. I walked from one end to the other trying to find my GO TO store, the store I'd bought my last pair. Tucked away at the end of walk (my cardio for the day) was my store. But when I looked at the merchandise (at outrageous prices) they weren't jeans at all!!!!
They were OLD LADY pants in blue. All kinds of elastic and gathers????? Where were the JEANS to control the girth? to tame the wobble? to turn the excess into muffin tops (I wear loose tops). I left the store empty handed and wandered aimlessly back down the lonely mile.
There were all kinds of JEANS in the windows of the shops. Dare I hope?
I mentally defined what I wanted. TRUE denim weigh, straight or relaxed leg, NOT boot cut, Not low rise, a Regular PAIR OF JEANS.
Finally a nice young man, (younger than my children) suggested I try "OLD NAVEL".... I mean Old N****y.
And there it was... a
WALL OF JEANS. (Hallelujah)
My pulse quickened.
And then I read the descriptions......low rise, mid rise, skinny, boot cut.
EUREKA... original curvy cut? I held my breath and touched them. Not too bad. Already broken in (remember that phase?).
My size? I guessed?
They swam on me. I ended up with size 12.
NEVER in my entire life have I worn a size 12. But they did "fit my curves" and were gentle with the "muffin top", so I paid the price and brought them home.
I lay down.
A day later I decided to wear my new jeans. As I was taking off the labels I read Spandex!! In DENIM?
Sigh.
The last part of this tale will bring tears, I promise.
We all have an underwear drawer. If you're anything like me you have trouble parting with these as well (though I draw the line at holes). The bikinis, the low rise, no grannies here. Symbols of our lost and distant wild side.
MY underwear drawer has 2 piles. The "wear anywhere, with anything" panties.....and the "wear only with pants"............... so they don't fall down.
To celebrate I chose the "better" pile and donned a "frisky" pair and over them, "the
JEANS". Profile was OKAY! Muffin top was negligible! What a plus.
I went off on my morning walk enjoying the swish of new material and the song of the birds.
About halfway through this exercise I stopped. Something was amiss.
MY PANTIES were falling down. THE GOOD STRONG ones.
The SPANDEX was inching them down, millimeter by millimeter.
(I haven't worn them since and I patched the old pair.)
Getting old!!!!%#)#$(^#($
