Now, I have a bone to pick. I went to the Gap on Saturday to see if I could find some leggings for Leila. She has these great ones that are so cute, but they are already fading in the wash, and Gap makes such cheap-ass stuff that I know they'll be done for before long. I wanted to get another pair, (which plays right into the hands of the cheap-ass stuff) but I didn't find them. What I did find, however, was that everything I touched in the women's department was on sale. It was like a feeding frenzy. I spent some dough, got some stuff, but here's the problem: When I go into a dressing room, I honestly believe that when I put on a pair of jeans, I will magically be thinner. I will have found the magic pants, the sisterhood pants, and I will look like I think I should look, like I deserve to look, like everyone else looks (or everyone I focus on) and do you know what? It never happens! Not once! I have not been lucky one time. I think this is completely unfair. Its not like I'm asking for a miracle, or anything! What's that you say? I am asking for a miracle. How rude!
The mirror in the dressing room is always a shock, and I always have to talk myself off the ledge; "Okay, I know these aren't the magic pants, AGAIN, so don't even evaluate how you look. Ask yourself if they are comfortable, ask yourself if you like the color, ask yourself if they're too long or too short, and just remember to wear a flowy shirt over your fat roll."
I did make a surprising find, though. Gap has these - for lack of a better term - wife beater tank-top/undershirt things in 5000 different bright and summery colors, and I got two to layer with some other stuff (I'm experimenting with layering) and I love them! I'm wearing one right now in fuchsia, and I am so comfortable! Of course, I look just like you expect me to look; like a fat chick in a wife beater.
And here's another thing. Does anyone but me think its weird that Janet Jackson and her father made some room in their grieving to go to the BET awards? I think its weird, and, I'm sorry, but she looked a little too fabulous to be grief stricken. I wasn't convinced. I know, I'm terrible.
I just overheard Leila use one of the tools of elementary school friendship that I taught her: When your playdate is manipulating you by saying she's going to go home if you don't do things her way, just say, "Okay, see ya later!" and watch what happens. Her friend just stood in her doorway saying, "Do you ever want to see me again?" and Leila said, "See ya!" and, lo, they're now playing like two monkeys in a tree. Its so nice when your kids listen to you. I should enjoy it now, it will never last...