2007-05-12 @ 10:01 a.m.
How's this for a reality check? I looked down at the conveyer belt at Target today and there was 2 cans of cat food, a bottle of chocolate milk, a bag of M&Ms, a 40C cup bra and some sanitary pads. I mean talk about totally screaming: single middle aged menstruating crazy cat lady!
And I mean it. How did I get there? I have no idea, because when I pulled out of my driveway today, I actually didn't know which way I was turning, because I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going. How's that for decisive?!?
On Monday I opened my checkbook to write a check for something and guess what was in it? Go ahead guess! The check for the power company. And guess where the envelope for the power company was? Being opened by a very amused power company employee downtown who was probably saying, "Here's another bill with no payment. Hahahahahaha!!!"
Yeah. It is kinda funny, in a sad kinda way, considering I don't know my account number and now I have to call them and go through "Press One...Press Two" hell for 35 minutes in order to talk to a human, you know, in order to tell them how stupid I am, you know, in order for them to tell me how to pay my bill.
Of course nothing is funnier than a 49 year old woman trying on bras at Target. Did I mention that? Why would I...I'm indecisive and jump from subject to subject when I'm like this. But I haven't bought a new bra in probably a year. My bra collection is ranked in exactly this order:
So why do I suddenly need a new bra? A hot date? Someone broke into my apartment and stole my entire collection of totally awesome brassieres? Nope. It seems that I did something rather, gulp, stupid.
In one week I will be modeling for an artist in front of a room full of people....
What a perfect choice of things to do for someone with severe social anxiety. Yay!!!! And I even volunteered myself. Double yay!!!! And obviously if I'm looking for a bra, I'll be clothed, ya damn perv!!!! So yeah. witty, America's Next Model. Why I have to buy a bra, I really don't know. Anxiety perhaps, that my boobs won't look perky maybe? Because my boobs, at this point are definitely less an Austin Power fembot thingie and more a Judy Densch playing a plump school marm thingie.
So, heh, trying on bras....my favoritest thing next to another Bush getting elected to the White House.
I brought in exactly three bras and it had to be one of them, I decided. A sports bra. An underwire bra. And a regular bra with some lace. Fortunately I got to accompany my bra trying-on experience with the idle chatter of two teenagers in the next dressing room.
"Oh, I'll just die, if this size 3-4 doesn't fit me...."
Oh shut the fuck up, you little twit. I mean really. Did I ever even wear a size 3-4? I think I actually skipped right from a child's size 6X to an adult size 14. I'm fairly certain of it.
So it was finally time to unleash the wittykitty hooters. I HAD alerted the store management, you know...so they could clear out the entire east side of the store, so I wouldn't knock over any displays with my apparent bounty. I always hate when that happens. I also didn't want to knock the two teenagers in the next dressing room unconscious or anything, you know, since my LAST lawsuit is still pending.
So I tried on the three bras and it pretty much broke down the way I thought it would. The sports bra schmooshed me down and made me look like Rosie O'Donnell. The underwire bra, besides nearly puncturing my aorta, squished my boobs into some kind of weird 1980's Madonna configuration, that is to say, two cone shaped appendages that didn't really didn't resemble anything human. The third bra, although a little tight, made me look almost normal. In other words....we have a winner....I need some M&Ms...I must escape.....STAT!!!!!
Unfortunately I also need to get a shirt with some color. I talked to the artist who will be drawing me Wednesday night and he asked if I have anything colorful to wear. Of course when you open my closet, its like the Black Hole of Calcutta, since almost everything I own is either black or...black. So I guess I'll have to go shopping again sometime this week. Although unlike most women I wasn't born with the "I love to shop" gene so needless to say, I.can.hardly.wait.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty