Saturday, January 07, 2006

It's the Size That Counts

Things I'd rather do than clothes shopping:

Do my income taxes
Talk to an insurance salesman
Go to the dentist
Visit my proctologist
Try to convince my relatives that George Bush is the devil

I went clothes shopping with my wife and 10 year old son last weekend. Let me preface this by saying we were actually going to buy shoes and a sweater for me. Here's how it went down:

2:00 pm - I returned some gloves and bought a new shirt at Sears.

2:15 pm - Passed by the women's department after failing in my attempt to convince my wife that leaving the store via the paint department, outside to the garden department and back in through automotive was a short cut.

2:20 pm - Wife says "I just want to look for pants. It won't take long." My son and I look at each other - the terror in our faces is now becoming apparent.

3:00 pm - Wife can't find anything. She says "let's go".



3:10 pm - Within 20 feet of the exit, wife says "let me just look over here" My son and I look at the nearby exit like a chain gang watching a girls field hockey game, the mall beyond taunting us with no chance of contact.

3:30 pm - Wife is complaining about the sad state of womens' clothing sizes. It appears that the fashion industry has conspired to make larger women believe they are now wearing the same size as Kate Moss. We still have the standard sizes: "x-small", "small", "medium", "large", "XL", "XXL", "XXXL", and "oh my God, it's coming towards me". Then these sizes exist in varied styles: "petite", "juniors", "teen", "misses", "plus" and "different time zone". Did you know women even had a size zero? I saw that in the "today's bulimic" department.

3:45 pm - Wife still looking at pants. My son drinks the last drops out of his 24 ounce bottle of water. We're also out of snacks. I have him breath into a paper bag to stave off the impending coma.

4:00 pm - Wife has several pair of pants to try on. TRY ON??? This is a mixed blessing. The fitting room can mean the exit is coming closer or a new chapter in agony. Now comes the ultimate humiliation. "Here, hold my coat and purse" she says. The only words more terrifying to a husband are "we have to talk". Other men pass by me and say "shopping with the wife, huh?". I respond "no, why do you ask? Oh, the purse. It's his." pointing to my son.

4:30 pm - Wife successfully purchases one pair of pants that still do not fit perfectly.

All in all, a pretty productive day.

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