I Hate Shopping

I hate shopping.

I rephrase that. I hate shopping for clothes for myself. I can shop all day for nicknacks, toys, scrapbooking supplies, clothes for my children, books, etc. Not for clothing for myself.

I went today to buy a new pair of jeans. I own two that fit. One is a pair of capris... that doesn't work in cold weather. Yes, it's actually cold in Houston. But of course, cold for us means under 75. I would wear the capris, but my husband thinks I'm silly for wearing sandals when it's cold, and you just can't wear socks and sneakers with capris and really get away with it. The other pair I ordered through Old Navy's website. I should've gone in the store. I ordered the ultra-low rise boot-cut jeans, thinking that because I have a short torso, it would do me good to create the illusion of normal-looking pants, considering the waist of normal jeans hits right under my chest. I won't go into great detail, I'll just say I should've ordered just the low rise instead of the ultra-low rise so everyone wouldn't think I just graduated plumbing school every time I sit down. But it's my only pair that I can wear this winter. I have some jeans that would look great if I lost 5-7 pounds, so until my exercising pays off... well, you get the picture.

So I go and pick out a few trial pairs of jeans. They make it so complicated! After finding an ultra-low-rise-straight-leg-medium-length-button-fly-stressed-washed-ripped pair, I decided to just grab some that had my size on it and head for the dressing room to avoid being committed. On the way I grabbed two shirts to try on with it. Both looked exceedingly cute. One was a silk tank that was to be worn under a jacket, either business or casual. The other was a seamless tank that had some sort of ribbed design. Now it's going to bug me until I look up exactly what they term that particular kind of ribbing.

And then I felt led by an invisible cattle prod to go to a small torture chamber enhanced by horrible lights that pick up and enhance every flaw in my body in its full-length mirror. And then I'm forced to strip down to try on these clothes, and no one can resist the urge to look. And it's just horribly depressing. I'm sure I could look like Angelina Jolie and still become horribly depressed in Target's dressing room. I would much rather shop from a catalog or online, where I am not subjected to this inhumane treatment people call "shopping." Or, if I must, I want to walk in, pick out some clothes, and pay for them. I don't want to have to spend two hours in a dressing room trying on twenty pairs of jeans and fifteen shirts to leave empty-handed because of the humiliating lighting and my crushed self-esteem.

I vote to have a new tagging system for all jeans. And hey, why stop there? Let's just do all clothing in general. This tag will be sort of like the Surgeon General's warning on cigarettes. "This pair of jeans will make your butt look big." "This shirt will enhance your bust." "This pair of slacks will hide thunder thighs." And clothing companies must disclose all pertinent information about their products. Then we could walk in and just pick out whatever features we wanted. I would go for the ones with tummy-tucking ability.

For instance, the first pair of jeans I tried on should've had the butt tag. I looked more than a little like J-Lo. It would've been kinda sexy if the ribbed-design shirt wasn't clinging in all the wrong places, making it obvious that my workout regime hadn't earned me a flat stomach yet. I just looked like post-pregnancy J-Lo. So I tried the other shirt, and THAT one did more for my stomach but much, much less for my chest. As in, even the size I grabbed was built for a preteen. And this shirt was in the women's section, not juniors! I swear they're designing all clothes around a hopeful, clubbing teeny-bopper, 'cause that's where they make their money. It's been so long since I've found a great-looking shirt that I just want to scream. I want clothes for REAL women! That shirt should've had a big red tag that said, "Caution: May cause severe damage to the chest of any woman past puberty."

And so for another day I commit to catalog shopping, where I can try on clothes in the normal lighting and safety of my own home. And just for expedience, I did buy the mid-rise-boot-cut-stone-washed-medium-length pair. Although now I'm considering if I should've gone with the long-length.