Ummmm....Stuck

I will be the first person to admit that when it comes to clothes, I don't exactly "have it going on." Back when I was teaching school, there were multiple occasions when I would get home from school still wearing what I believed were my "totally grown up and professional" teaching clothes to have Shane say, "You didn't actually wear that today, right?" Colors, patterns, and styles definitely elude me, but I usually feel like I give it an honest effort.

Oh I'm sorry, are the cool kids NOT wearing Christmas Rules tee shirts?

I'm confident that I know what I like clothing-wise when I see it on someone else, and I can picture how I'd like to look (thanks Pinterest for showing me the unattainable), but for some reason when I get in a store I feel weirdly tall, awkward, and gangly. I look at the mannequins and the displays full of colors and textures and things I don't even know how to put on. Shopping is scary.


In spite of my shopping anxiety, at times the demon has to be faced, and I have to go buy clothes. This issue became sort of pressing right after having twins. I discovered that all of my pre-pregnancy clothes that I once believed had looked cute and sassy (I'm looking at you, former life skinny jeans), now made me look sad and lumpy. There was no choice but to head to Nordstroms in search of new pants.

Feeling extremely overwhelmed, I thumbed through racks of various pants options. Who knew there were so many? Fortunately, a sweet sales woman who could undoubtedly smell my fear bustled over to help. I tried to explain that I didn't know my size and that I just wanted pants that looked sort of cool (and less sad/lumpy). She assured me that she had several options.

After being ushered into the dreaded dressing room (three way mirrors, gross lights, trying on clothes that other people have tried on...ugh) I anxiously waited, sans pants, for the saleswoman to hand me pants over the door. I tried on the first pair, felt a little "meh" about the fit, and moved onto the the next pair. Without checking the size, I stepped in. The pants felt tight, but I was blindly confident that the saleswoman had some sort of magical ability to guess my correct size and match me up with my dream pants. Gripping the waist I wiggled side to side, stuck my butt out, pulled it back in, and tried my best to get the pants up over my knees. I immediately accepted pants defeat when I realized that there was no way  that the pants were going to button....there was no way the pants were even going up past my quads. I tried to reverse wiggle to get out of the blasted pants, but I only succeeded in tipping over sideways and falling onto the bench in the fitting room. I was now on the ground and stuck in the pants. The pants would not budge.

The saleswoman came back to check on my and I felt my last shred of dignity float away. Cue my internal conflict: Do I tell her that I'm stuck in pants rolling around and panting on the ground or do I just decide to live in the dressing room forever and die with stupid trendy skinny jeans around me knees? It is a question for the ages.

Realizing that staying in the dressing room forever until I die of starvation (or embarrassment) was not an option, I had to come to terms with the fact that this saleswoman would have to be alerted to the situation. And, that this random person would see me in my underwear. And, that this woman would have to help me shimmie out of the pants.

The saleswoman didn't make me wallow in my shame swamp for too long as she knocked on the door to see how everything was going.

"Ummmmmm.....it's not great." I replied

"Is it the size or the style?" She inquired.

"Ummmmmm yes. Both. I think. Maybe. I don't know." PANIC!

She offered to get me another pair, and I let her know that before I could try on another pair, I needed help getting out of the current pair.

Inwardly cursing myself and admitting pants-defeat, I let her into the room and accepted the fact that this was happening. She was very cool and professional about the whole ordeal, assuring me that "size mishaps" happen all the time.

She instructed me to stand up, lean against the wall, and with a firm strong grip she grabbed the pants, wiggled them side to side and then YANKED. The pants finally slid down.

"See, no problem. Can I get you another size?" She asked, as though she handled skinny jeans removals all day.

I'm pretty sure I went on and on about my gratitude for liberating my legs, and then humiliated, sweaty, yet grateful for my leg freedom I got out of there.

Know what you can't get stuck in? Yoga pants. 

For now, online shopping will be my jam. I may get stuck in clothes, but on the bright side only my dogs have to witness it. And they'll never tell.

Charles Barkley? You Mean the Guy from Space Jam

The baby people and I have been down and out with sinus nastiness for the last two weeks. In case you're curious, two weeks being basically homebound with two 19 month olds is a lot like what I imagine being trapped in a McDonald's Play Place would feel like, only louder, and perhaps messier. By day 10 we were desperate for an outing, so we headed to Target with no real agenda.

Cruising up the aisles somewhat aimlessly while the baby people were (mildly) entertained by looking around, I remembered that they needed more toothpaste. "Good work, memory, for making this trip slightly less pointless," I thought to myself. Just as we arrived at the toothpaste aisle, I noticed an enormous man in athletic gear. Enormous probably isn't even the best word choice, perhaps mammoth, gigantic, or just really freakin' huge would do the situation more justice. And, he was blocking the section of shelves that held the toddler toothpaste. While waiting for the giant to move, I realized that I had seen this guy before. Staring without trying to look like I was staring, my brain scrolled through my mental Rolodex (my brain is still old school and uses a Rolodex-not Linkedin) and stopped on Space Jam. This was totally one of the guys from that sweet 90's classic....which means that this guy was (is?) also an NBA big wig. I'm pretty sure I should have recognized him from sports, but I obviously spend way more time watching super awesome movies starring athletes (I'm looking at you, critically acclaimed Shazaam in which Shaq plays a genie. It's a real gem) than I do watching ESPN.

All Star Cast of Space Jam? You know it.

Finally, he turned to the side and I placed the name -  Charles Barkley. So, Charles Barkley and the baby people needed toothpaste at Target....nothing out of the ordinary here. The man mountain Barkley turned and saw me standing there awkwardly. I assume he was waiting for me to ask to take a picture or sign a kid or something, but little did he know that I fully planned on not interacting with him because I am VERY uncool when talking to famous people (which has happened like three times in my life).

"Am I in the way?" He boomed.
"Ummmmmmmm, no, not at all, I just need some kid toothpaste......ahhhhh.....for my kids." First of all, who am I to tell Charles Barkley that yes, you are in the way, and furthermore, why shouldn't I explain that kid toothpaste would in fact be for my kids?
"Are those babies twins? I love twins!" And with that, Charles Barkley lowered his giant self to be eye level with the baby people who were sitting nonchalantly in their stroller. Note to self- next time I meet someone from Space Jam, or any other famous person, I'll take a page from the J and A playbook and try to act underwhelmed-it reads way cooler than awkward and nerdy which is my usual mojo.
"You guys give high fives?" He asked as Jack grinned and Avery acted coy. With that, Barkley gave them each a high five.
"Do good in school," he told them as he stood up and walked away.

NBA superstar? No big deal. 

I grabbed the toothpaste and backed out of the aisle. CB (I feel like we're cool now, so I can call him this) was swarmed by shoppers asking for pictures and autographs. He was remarkably nice and spent a bit of time with them before heading to the check out lines. I didn't want to seem stalkerish (but I will- give it a minute), so I got in the line near him where I proceeded to take a sneaky under the arm picture of him waiting. Stars-they wait in line at Target just like us! We paid, nodded when the cashier asked in a hushed whisper if we had seen Charles Barkley, and with that, our big outing drew to a close.

Nothing to see here.....just a blurry shot of Charles Barkley's arm....

The take aways? The baby people are much cooler than me (except that I'm potty trained-boom), Charles Barkley (as seen in Space Jam) is phenomenally nice, and someday, if my kids start doing poorly in school, I will absolutely be able to say, "Pull it together! What would Charles Barkley think?"