This morning somebody asked me how long to the wedding. A quick check on the calendar and it's 51/2 weeks.
Gosh, that's not long. Perhaps I'd better start looking for an outfit.
We've 'loaned' Younger Son the money to buy a car - primarily so I can have my car back. Now Betty Beetle is an old-fashioned sort of a girl, running on 4 star petrol. You can't buy that in many places so we have to carry a bottle of additive with us.
After work I decided I'd pop into town and checkout the posh frocks. Fine and dandy except Betty needed petrol.
No problem; we stopped at the garage on the way. First things first, I had to find my glasses so I could read how much and what to do with the additive. Meanwhile a car pulled up behind me at the pump.
It's an ingenious little bottle with a special measuring bit at the top that stops too much additive going in. You have to squeeze the bottom and the additive climbs up the tube at the side and into the top bit. And stays there. Very clever.
At least that's what it's supposed to do. I squeezed and squeezed and it wouldn't move. There was some left in the bottle; it just wouldn't come up. I assumed there wasn't enough there for the pressure to make it climb up. Or something scientific like that.
Cars were queuing behind me now.
I moved Betty, went into the garage and bought more additive.
I was taking the top off the new bottle when it hit me: I hadn't taken the top off the old bottle. That was why it wouldn't work.
Sometimes I am so stupid it scares me.
I finally made it into town. Three quarters of an hour later and I'd had enough. It's not a good idea going clothes browsing when you hate every bit of your body.
The assistant had to unlock a changing room for me and she stood outside the cubicle, talking to me, while I was trying things on. 'Which one are you trying first? How does it look? Would you like a bigger size? etc' Urgh. She wasn't really hassling me but I hate pressure. I didn't bother trying them all on.
But I did buy some farm bacon and Penclawdd cockles from the market for tea. I'll take a photo and show you later.
And I really need to lose about 1 pound a day for the next 8 days. What are my chances do you think? Given I've just had two hot cross buns for lunch. (Well, they'll only go to waste if I don't eat them.)
7 comments:
With that last parenthesized comment, Liz, it will be an uphill road.
A proper beetle! Wicked. An old family friend had a blue one when I was 13-14 - she used to give me lifts "over the hill" to the music college for my guitar lessons. Lovely lady - always think of her when I see a VW beetle.
Indeed, James, you've spotted the problem.
Betty is white, as is Brian, who is a soft top, Furtheron.
You're not stupid or if you are, you've got a lot of company out here! I hate pressure when buying clothes, too... here it's worse - they just won't leave you alone. They don't see it as pressure, though; they see it as good service. And you have to be in a certain frame of mind to buy an outfit...
I am not fond of sales ladies at all. Years ago I went into a Petite shop with a friend of mine as she shopped...a stiff wind would've blown her away, she was so tiny. And then there's me...big ol' Swede, 5' 7" tall and the bone structure of Brunhilde! A snooty little shop girl came up to me and told me, "You needn't shop here. We don't have any clothes in YOUR size!" How humiliating, and how rude! Sometimes you just wonder about people! And I've done the forgotten-to-take-the-top-off thing more times than once...ah, the joy of growing older! :-P
Gosh maybe misskris is shopping for her teenaged daughter or a friend or? What's wrong with can I help you?
Better luck another day Liz
Regards
jmb
I know they are trying to be helpful and she wasn't at all pushy. She certainly wasn't as rude as the assistant in Kris's experience. She was a monster!
I'm planning on going again, probably the weekend after next, with Daughter. She will make me try on things I wouldn't normally consider, and, sometimes, I'm pleasantly surprised at the result.
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