Grocery Gaffes - Part Two
I have so many other things I want to write about…important and inspirational things that I have really been dying to share, but as there was much enjoyment of my first installment of Grocery Gaffes, I thought my first post after my extended absence would be the latest idiotic thing I did at the grocery store.
Today we were having a lazy day. It has been so nice to have Jason home, just to even the parent to child score around here, as well as simply having another adult to converse with throughout the day. It was such a lazy day that none of us really got dressed to the shoes - I had jeans and a shirt on, but I let my hair air dry and it was all frizzy, and I was like - whatever…who am I trying to impress, you know?
So anyways, around 5pm, Jason comes sniffing around, asking what was for dinner. I told him it was egg casserole and he was like “Oh man, no eggs!” He suggested spaghetti. I had no spaghetti fixings, but I did need to run to the store quick, so I told him I would make it, but he would have to wait a little for dinner.
Abby and I had played outside earlier during the day, and while it was cold out, it wasn’t uncomfortable, so I figured if I just threw on my easily accessible thick cable knit wool sweater, and left the coat in the (completely unorganized) closet, I would be sufficiently warm for the little trip. I checked my appearance quickly, saw that I was hideous, with my old glasses, no makeup, and unruly, frizzy and not fit for public viewing hair. I made a joke to Jason as I left that I looked like the crazy town wench, and he agreed. You think he would have noticed the way that I really left, but oh no…nor he or I saw the obvious error in my appearance that, if I had known, would have definitely attended to before leaving. Besides, who really cares what anyone looks like at the grocery store. I’d be among tired moms and old ladies anyway, and my looking “dressed to impress” days are over.
So I drove to the store, got out, and did kind of wonder if anyone wondered why I wasn’t wearing a coat (but seriously, this sweater looks like a coat - I was plenty warm.) Feeling a bit insecure about my appearance now, it suddenly occurred to me to check and see if I had pulled up my jeans zipper, as I am notorious for not doing so, and all was good there. I did my shopping, did not make any notable mistakes, and went to check out. Since I looked like the crazy town wench, I thought I could just go through the self checkouts - that way I would completely avoid all human contact, but it was not to be - as I forgot that Acme doesn’t have self checkouts. So I stood in a huge line behind a guy with really bad B.O., reading all about Jen and Angelina and was surprised to learn that Nicole Richie was pregnant again…and finally I was getting close to getting out of there. The guy with the B.O. made some room on the belt so that I could put down the basket I was carrying, so I put my basket down and smiled and thanked him - but he wouldn’t meet my eye. We had a connection though, me and B.O. guy - he smelled bad and I looked bad. Finally he was out of there, and I had time to inhale his lingering fumes while I waited to get rung out. The cashier was a middle aged lady and she had long stringy hair - so I felt even more like everyone else in the store. She kept looking at me oddly though, and finally she said, “Is that suppose to be like that?” She sort of gestured towards my neck and chest region. I craned my neck down, thinking - “Is there a stain?” - OMG - Is my boob out or something? But no, there was no stains, no boobs. She said, “Your sweater, did you miss a button, or is it suppose to be like that?”
Then, to my horror, I realized that in my haste to get out of the house, I misbuttoned the sweater so badly that at the top it was buttoned so high that it felt like a turtle neck, while at the bottom, two empty button holes flapped around, silently mocking me for not holding myself to the high standards of my grandma, who was the epitome of class, grace, and beauty. It looked like maybe one of the kids buttoned it for me…or that maybe there was one of those community vans parked out front, and they let me out of the nut house for the day. I said, “Oh! I was in such a hurry to get here. I must have misbuttoned.” And the lady waiting behind me, LAUGHED. Loudly. I wasn’t sure if I should rebutton, or just let it go - and I decided to grab my bags and just get the heck out of there. So I came home, left my sweater the way it was, and found Jason. I said, “Dude - look at how I looked walking through the store for the last 20 minutes.” He immediately saw the sweater, grabbed me in a bear hug, and said, “THAT is why I married you!”
See this lady? Her sweater - that is what mine looked like. See her smiling, happy attitude , while the rest of her looks homeless? That was me at Acme today. Sometimes I wonder about those days when my grandma was my age, and you woke up before the rest of the family, put on your pristine housecoat/apron, did your hair and make up, put on your little heels, and was totally ready to meet the day, no matter what happened. I am not sure when decided that I could go out in public with icky hair and no make up, but I am drawing the line at poorly buttoned sweaters and shirts. Ugh.
Posted on January 2nd, 2009 by Jill
Filed under: Jillie's Sillies | No Comments »
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