outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- adventures in shame shopping, part I No more lying in bed until ten minutes before you have to leave for YOU, Jessie. I ended up leaving my work ID at home, and was unable to get up the elevator this morning. I had to call for help from the lowly ground level. Last night's shopping experience was a mixed bag of many and varied emotions. I had a lovely walk from Porter to Harvard at around five. Man, this global warming thing is a hoot! It was a gorgeous, gloomy, evocative day; at the risk of using a tired cliche, I had this nice sense of peace thing going on. Sadly, it vanished when I noticed I was lost, and after I was found, something new took had taken its place: determination to appease my self-suffering vanity. I struggled into more tiny black shirts than is really healthy for any pudgy person's ego. As I tried on shirt number seven from store number two, I said to myself, "don't get your hopes up, Jessie." Then, when "trying on" became "stuck inside of", my warning became "REALLY don't get your hopes up, Jessie." I ended up buying a way overpriced loose cotton shapeless shirt with some kind of batwing-shaped lace cap sleeves that did nothing more than stick out and make me look ridiculous. I plotted against those batwings. I intended to cut them off when I got home, as well as remove the frivolous ties at the neck that also looked super retarded. In short, this shirt was a fixer-upper, and I ought to have bought it for sixty cents at a garage sale. Call it comfort food, or call it fatalism, but I then went and ate a cup of yummy creamy chowder that I probably could have done without. Then, in a last ditch effort, I wandered into Hootenanny, a store that caters to the club scene and/or people who like owning insanely expensive and uncomfortable clothing, that they can wear to class and freak out their professors so they can consider themselves "oppressed." I mean, "oppressed for being different." Never you mind that all these articles of clothing for all these different scenes are concentrated in this very store. But I digress. After a few abortive attempts to squeeze my flesh into stuff, I came across a lovely purple thing. Size? "XL" That's what we like to see. Although not extra large in stature, I am extra large in fat content...like a fried wonton. I went into the dressing room and cajoled my flab into submission in this purple vinyl casing, asking nicely that the purple vinyl casing please not pop and cause me any more shame. The casing obliged, and I became a shiny, vinyl, purple, juicy, well-filled sausage. No really, it looked good. So that's what I came home with, plus tiny black skirt number three that I really didn't need. Oh yes, I can own two or three tiny black skirts and look fine in them, because I have no ass or hips, but I also have no waist, because my body is unbalanced, contradictory and mean. My next adventure will begin tonight, when I go forth to locate -- THE PERFECT BATHING SUIT 9:18 a.m. - 2002-01-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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