The Clothes Make The Man

The clothes may make the man, but the man certainly pays for them. My sister and I hit the local suburban shopping mecca to try to make a significant dent in my savings, er.. that is retool my wardrobe. She is the family guru on such things. I am the type that marches into a store grabs the first thing that grabs me then I bolt to the first exit I can find. When I discover, upon actually wearing it, that it does not fit / clashes with highlights in my hair; I simply chuck it to the bottom of a drawer because returning it would require me to reenter that misers hell again.

I was, therefore, somewhat unprepared to discover that real shopping entails visiting every single discount rack in a five store area. Any item that could possibly be worn must be held to my face to check the color, pass my sister's exacting standards, and get tossed in the cart for further evaluation. "further evaluation" entails me spending hours in a changing room try the same pair of pants in 6 different sizes to find that perfect pair that has been waiting for since the dawn of... well the dawn of something...

Five hours, an unspecified amount of debit, and two plates of chinese later; I left with a pile of clothes that I had been unaware were necessary and a feeling of extreme satisfaction of a job well done, or was it exhaustion?

Hopefully between the bright colored shirts and the spiffy haircut she gave me, I am now fit to be seen in public with out random strangers dropping copper coins into my hat.

In a final note that no one cares about. I stubbed my pinky toe this morning racing Isaac around the play room. I now sport a very cute strawberry shortcake bandaid. Apparently there are no batman bandaids in this house.

Sam's Summary

• I spent too much money on "bargain" clothing.
• It was a laborious project (but hey I stimulated the economy)
• I ate chinese food.
• I stubbed my little toe.
• I have a strawberry shortcake bandaid
• I must now go finish the basketball hoop

Take care,