Good news in the pants department. Yesterday I was at the mall again with the girls – I’ve been taking Julie to play in the soft play area at Eden Prairie Center and after play time and lunch were taken care of, I took a swing through a store that I don’t normally visit. It was full of pushy, middle-aged saleswomen who were WAY too friendly with Julie and way too into the baby. If I hadn’t already been put off by the woman saying stupid things to Julie about her “juice” (no, it’s a sippy cup full of water, but thanks for bringing up juice to my kid, who gets it only as a rare treat!) I sure was annoyed by her later asking me where my kids came from.
Whoa. I just gave her the blank stare-down. I’ve gotten weird questions like that before – people see the asian faces and assume they’re adopted. Whatever. I don’t care what goes on inside their ignorant little heads, it’s when they spew their stupidity at me and my girls that I get so irritated I just literally don’t know what to say. I mean, I *need* to stay cool so that Julie and Sophie don’t pick up on my emotion and feel like something is wrong with *them* when friendly strangers start asking stupid questions. After a few seconds of freezer-burn, the woman said “oh – they’re yours?” mmm-hmmm. She tried to back-pedal with comments on how beautiful they are, explaining that there’s a korean-adoptee parent group that meets in the mall and she just assumed. blah blah blah. THEN! Then she had the nerve to ask me what nationality my kids are. I really must come up with and memorize some casually pert response to these occasional idiots. um, American?
Anyway, I pushed past the sales hoarde and headed to the sales rack where I found a pair of tailored jeans in the size below the size I’ve recently been wearing. The week after I gave birth, I tried on a pair in this lower size, and could zip them up only by squishing my jiggly belly mass above the waistline in a most disgusting manner. Once I’ve tried on a size and found that it doesn’t fit, it is really scary trying it on again. How disappointing to walk into a dressing room with a size you hope/think will fit only to walk out and search for the next size up. Well, I gathered up my nerve, grabbed the pants and asked one of the annoying saleswomen to open the handicapped dressing room, the only one large enough to fit my fat ass and the two-seater stroller. Lo and behold, the pants fit! Plus they have a waistline just at my belly button, insuring that they won’t go sliding down my butt like every other pair of pants I own at the moment.
Today I tried the pants on again at home, found that they still fit, and decided to wear them around the house for a while with the tags on to make sure I wouldn’t have surprise plumber butt issues again. The tags are coming off, baby – these pants fit. Now what to do with the Old Navy jeans I bought last week in the larger size? The ones that I tried to wear today but which absolutely won’t stay up? I have no idea. I’m just happy that I have a pair that work.
The only sad thing is that I also bought a very expensive t-shirt on impulse the other day. On further reflection and trying it on again at home, it needs to go back to the store. I may just get a second chance to deal with that saleswoman. I hope I can come up with something better to say this time.