Tag Archives: shopping

Virtual shopping trip!

Remember how I mentioned that, after an afternoon of feeling my pants cut into my miserably bloated stomach, I decided to take the leap and buy some maternity jeans?

And remember how I said that I imagined I was taking you all with me? Well, I’ve finally put together the pictures I took of myself in the dressing room at Target.

Wow, that sounds really . . . narcissistic.

But it was really more like Let’s Play Pretend–instead of shopping alone, I just pretended to be shopping with all of you! You lady-types, that is. I even had a couple imaginary conversations with you. In one of them, you kept me safely away from an XXL top that I really loved but . . . well, as you may have guessed, was just a leetle too baggy on me (thanks by the way for saving me the $15!).

So let’s set the scene: there I was at work after eating a lot of fries, and my stomach was not feeling very happy. “These jeans are really giving me an edge!” it whined. “Isn’t there a way you could make me happier by just . . . you know. Spending a little money? For a good cause? Make that a great cause?”

It all seemed to make sense (stomachs have a lot of persuasive power over the pocket book–what can I say). And at that moment, all plans of waiting until Rummage to buy maternity clothes on the cheap just seemed ridiculous, like a completely foolhardy fantasy. The time to shop was clearly now.

So as soon as late afternoon hit and things had calmed down at work, I locked up the office and hit the road. Hopped on the bus, hopped on the train . . . (fast forward 25 minutes) . . . and walked into Target! Once inside, I sped like a madwoman towards the maternity section–but not too fast to grab a few flowy tops off the clearance rack on my way over, mind you. I never go too fast for the clearance rack. Securely hidden away in the dressing room, I whipped off my clothes, put on a striped maternity tank, and pulled on the first pair of maternity jeans.

(by the way, I wish I could say that little belly is the little baby . . . but no. Just fries.)

Why have I heard so many negative things about maternity jeans?

They are sooooo fine. And by that I mean . . . sooooo comfy. Why doesn’t everyone wear them, pregnant and non-pregnant alike?

Well, it might be because of this:

AaaaaAAACK!

It’s frightening. I know. In fact, some of you ladies in the dressing room let us small yelps of shock.

But just pull down your top and the frightening part goes away. And the comfy part comes back. And all is well again.

Let’s see how they adjust when I really pooch out my belly big time.

Yes, I make a duck face every time I pooch out my belly. Why . . . don’t you?

At this point, I was pretty much sold on the pantalones. I have to say, I do prefer pairs with the shorter maternity band (that doesn’t cover the whole stomach), which is what I went for with pair #2. But later on, I discovered you can also just fold down the extra long stretchy part, and if the bottom of it peaks out, it just looks kind of like a navy blue tank.

Pair #2 unfortunately didn’t get photographed very much. But I really love them. In this picture they look a little baggy around the top–and they do scrunch a little–but for some reason that doesn’t bother me. Maybe because they’re a very tapered dark wash, which makes them look skinnier overall. And if you’re doubting, don’t–because at the time, you totally approved.

Trust me–I was there.

Then it was time to move on to the flowy tops.

I know this an XXL . . .

 . . . but it’s supposed to be flowy and oversized, so it might work, right???

Wrong.

Not even with the belt tied on? I wondered, trying to hang on to one last vestige of hope.

Not even with the belt, you said firmly.

Thank you for being the voice of reason in my head. Sometimes reason flees in the dressing room–but this time it prevailed. I should always shop with you guys.

Moving on!

This little number–not a success.

Not even picture worthy.

Next item! A flowery thingamaging, part dress, part shirt.

I love it (and I’m still sporting the 2nd pair of maternity jeans here–love those too).

Love it, love it, love it. The print feels a little retro, and the fit is spot on.

It made me grin my dorkiest of grins. And it might even be able to accomodate the growing Little Wa-Wa. Put ‘er in the cart!

Next: a cheap black miniskirt with a very stretchy waistband, perfect for my needy belly.

Not bad! Especially when I add my favorite find of the day, this jacket.

One of my favorite parts about the jacket? The lining in the sleeves.

See? No, I’m not just awkwardly hugging my torso–I’m trying to show you the sleeves. They’re polka dot on the inside.

Last item up! A flowy printed blouse with butterflies all over it.

It’s so drapey and lovely.

And the little braided belt is the perfect touch.

I love how everything is going together: the shirt, the skirt, even the jacket . . .

Walking out with a complete outfit is always much more fun than leaving with rampantly individual pieces that refuse to be combined.

Finally, as I left the dressing room, I asked the attendant with a longing voice “You wouldn’t happen to have this one flowy dress/shirt thing in a small? I only saw it in an XXL on the rack . . .” I let my voice trail off and radiated my most hopeful expression in her direction.

She reassured me she would check in the back.

A couple minutes later, I had the small in my hand.

Yeeessssss! It fit great. Being a nincompoop, I didn’t take a picture–but I promise it worked.

By the way, is that how you spell “nincompoop”? It looks kind of . . . odd. Too many n’s and o’s and p’s, or something.

Anyway.

Thanks, friends, for shopping along with me! On the upside, it was fun to record the shopping experience on purpose so that I could ‘take you along’–but on the downside, there did end up being a lot of images of my mug plastered all over this webpage. And I mean a lot. Possibly more than in any other post ever written. So based on the pros and cons, is this experience something you’d like to repeat some day? Or will you run the other way as fast as possible when I utter the word “dressing-room”?

Hugs to you all!

Sisters on the Magnificent Mile

I love this girl.

She always calls me when she’s shopping. I’ll be at work, or chilling out on the couch, and the phone will ring. “Hey! I’m in the dressing room at Target,” she’ll announce.

“So I’m trying to decide between two shirts. There’s this blue one . . . it’s kind of a sky blue with a little ruffle around the bottom. But I’m just worried that the ruffle is hitting me at the wrong spot. You know what I’m talking about? But the neckline is so pretty.”

“Tell me about the other shirt,” I’ll interject.

And then it’s my duty as the older sister in residence to help her come to a decision. Which really means that I say: “Man . . . I don’t know . . . you know what? I think you should just get both. You can always return one if you decide that you hate it once you get home.”

My solution is always to get both.

And that’s why I should not be allowed to shop frequently.

Though I love talking to Erica as she graces the distant Kentucky dressing rooms of Target or Victoria’s Secret and browses through Land’s End’s bathing suit selection, what I really love is shopping with her in person. We don’t have to tread on eggshells when trying to communicate to each other that a particular item isn’t very flattering. “The color looks like puke,” Erica may say. There’s no hemming and hawing with “well, um, maybe, like, that color . . . I don’t know . . . I mean, whaddyou think?” This makes for Greater Shopping Efficiency.

This particular trip on a sunny Tuesday afternoon involved a coffee break at Starbucks, where coffee was promptly spilled.

The store was completely out of napkins, so dishrags were brought forth.

My coffee was too bitter and Erica’s too sweet, so we paused at a convenient ledge and mixed the two.

“I’ll take pictures and you mix,” I suggested (this was a convenient way to ensure that any further spillage–and the resulting sticky hands–would not befall me).

That’s more like it.

During our meanderings, we stopped in a certain shoe store. In my experience, retail establishments aren’t too keen on customers taking pictures inside the store, but the urge welling up within me to snap some shots was simply irresistible. Thankfully, there are so many tourists out and about on the Magnificent Mile that the camera hanging from my shoulder didn’t raise any alarms or gain any special scrutiny from the staff. Feeling like a spy in some kind of thriller, I used my super-secret method to take pictures: with the camera hanging from my shoulder, I aimed from the hip and simply started pressing the shutter release button.

It was wildly entertaining.

Of course, the sheer brilliance of my super-spy technique caused me to go into fits of giggles.

I probably laugh more–and harder–with my sisters than with anyone else on earth.

Come back soon, Erica!