Debbie went with me. She doesn't trust me to shop by myself because :
1. I hate to shop.
2. I hate salespeople who hover so I tell them to go away and wind up not finding anything myself.
3. She wants to see it first because she says I have no taste.
I'm a terrible shopper. Plus ...I've put on weight. And I refuse to think that I wear anything larger than 32 slim. (last time I was 32 slim, was after Kennedy got shot). But ... I knew it was time. Debbie comments every day about the holes in my pants and my shoes. I think it makes her angrier that I wear them until the holes are large enough that you can just about see my butt. Staples and clips will only do so much.
So off we go to Jos. Banks.
Our shopping trip started off on the wrong foot when ... as I put a hand on a suit ... the salesman swooped in and said, "Need help finding a size?"
"No thanks this is what I wanted ..."
"Let me help you." He grabbed it out of my hand and started to put it on me.
"I can do it myself ..."
He put it on me anyway and said, "Nope ... this won't do ... too tight around the middle."
"I kinda liked the fit ..."
"Here..." he said without missing a beat. he put on a coat that looked like I needed another person with me to fill it out.
"This is huge," I said.
"Yes .... but not in the stomach". He directed me over to another rack where he pulled out a coat that was the size of the first one I tried on. "These are more for someone like you. They are called our PORTLY coats."
"No thanks." I said to the salesman. "I'll just buy a glue gun and keep my old stuff."
Debbie just rolled her eyes and sighed.