Can't Argue With That

I've mentioned elsewhere that I do not like to shop. It's just not something I've ever really enjoyed. It probably stems from being too damn short in a world of tall people. Probably also has something to do with the fact that when I was in the teen years, when how you look is so important, I felt like nothing looked good on me. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was, but I was certainly not one of the cute skinny girls during the time when that counts for so damn much.

Anyway.

I don't like to shop. My shopping trips consist of knowing what I need, going directly to the store I think is most likely to have that item, determining within 5 minutes whether they have it in my size, and either trying on and purchasing said item or moving on to the next likely store. I don't shop sales because my size is so rarely available and usually picked over. Really, I don't need floral patterned Capri pants - who the hell thinks they look good on short folk anyway? My legs are short enough without that kind of help, thank you very much.

Lucky for me, J likes to shop. And often finds good deals on stuff in my size, and knows me well enough to usually pick things I like. So every now and then, a package shows up on the front door that holds fun stuff for me. Like today, for example.  Exhibit A contained two items for me - a very cute top and a bathing suit.

Yes, you read that right. A bathing suit. There is precedent here. A few years ago he picked out a bathing suit online that ended up working great. The dude shops much better than I do and usually manages to save money in the process. Plus I don't have to brave the damn department store. That's a win/win.

So before everyone got home today, I tried the stuff on.  The top fit perfectly. I already know that's going to Vegas with us in a few weeks and will probably be completely worn out by the time summer is over.

Then the bathing suit. The top worked great. The bottom, I wasn't as enamored with. It felt kind of ... skimpy. The first thing I thought was that maybe I needed a bigger size, but I wasn't sure that would solve the issue. I needed a second opinion. When J got home, I tried it on again to make sure my first assessment (bathing suit does not work) was the correct one.

As I walked out of the bathroom to show it off, Alyssa looked up and asked "Mommy, what is that? Is that a bathing suit?" I told her it was, and asked her what she thought. At first she said she liked it, and J hadn't really made up his mind. But after I had made a few turns in front of the two of them, Alyssa looked at me and said, "Mommy? I don't think I like it. Your booty is hanging out."

Thanks Alyssa girl. THAT was the kind of assessment I was looking for. And back to the store it goes.  I'll try again in another day or two when the trauma has worn off.