I hate to shop. Always have. Particularly for clothes. Because shopping for clothes is nothing but an ego-bashing for anyone larger than a size 4. Like me. Like MOST women. But... I'd packed a carry-on bag for a two-week visit and was now going to be staying for three months. I didn't want to shop, but I had to.
In San Diego's clothing Mecca, Fashion Valley, I was nearly reduced to tears several times as items claiming to be my size clung expertly to exactly the parts of me that would benefit the least from the attention. As I walked despondently from one shop to another, I came to realize that I seemed to be the only girl at the mall who had a problem with showing her curves. The less-than-flattering ones. Well, I envy the ego that isn't disturbed by the display, but it's not for me. Eventually, I did find one store that allowed for my don't-wrap-me-in-Saran existence. JCPenney. If only I'd found it a few purchases earlier....
And with that, I'll end this post. Other thoughts I plan to expound on soon: my new-found love of the DVR and cable internet access, hoping to beat my traveling camera jinx, and a Fat Tuesday discovery that is just TYPICAL.
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