I had to buy fat pants the other day. At a bonified "fat ladies" store. Here's how it went:
I walk in. The saleslady asks me, "Can I help you?"
I say, "Yeah. I'm so freaking fat now that I have to shop at this store and I need pants because I'm fat."
Her response: icy silence. It's at this point that I realize that she's at least four sizes larger than I am. She points silently at the clearance rack of pants and walks to the back of the store.
Because the baby strapped on my chest could wake up at any moment, I hurry to try on as many pairs of pants as I can and choose one. It costs $50 which is depressing.
Then I go to check out. The large sales lady asks, "This all?"
I open my mouth to say, "I sure as heck hope so. I hate being so fat and pray to heaven this comes off before the pants wear out."
But I think better of it and just nod.
Notes, Vol. 1: Born to Be a Larve by Boulet
3 days ago