Questionable Taste

I will always look a gift horse in the mouth.

I found a consignment shop in nearby New Hampshire that pays you up front for the clothes you drop off. This was a big deal for me for two reasons, one: I have a lot of clothes that I don't wear, And two: Its my money, and I need it now.

So, I dropped the clothes off at this store, which looked like a pretty nice place and the owner called me like an hour later to say she'd looked through the clothes, and taken a few things, and she wanted to offer me 7 dollars for what she took. Which doesn't sound like a lot, but I'm pretty desperate. And suddenly I understand how pawn shops work. But anyway, when I picked up the clothes, the box looked exactly as full as when I dropped it off. So far, the only thing I can recognize as missing is a blue tie-dyed iridescent tunic that was given to me by a relative who was apparently under the impression that I am a middle-age drag queen. But none of the things I was sure she'd be interested in-- the brand new shoes, sundresses, Ann Taylor shirts-- they were all still there. Even with all the skills Cosmo Magazine has given me, is it possible that I have bad taste? Maybe I should have kept that drag queen tunic, maybe that's the direction fashion is heading. ...But probably not.

Fitting

In leau of lunch today, I went to a bridal shop to buy a dress for my brother's impending wedding. Much to my surprise, you need to order these things 8 weeks in advance, my brother's wedding, however, is in 4 weeks. But for a small fee, they are able to rush the dress. How good of them. The shop was small, it had been a coffee shop before this, and before that it was an antique store, and the owner of the shop was on the phone with the police, telling them about a stolen necklace... but I was dress shopping. I found two nearly identical dresses, tried both on, took pictures with my phone, and decided that the more expensive one looked best. Of Course. Now, designer dresses run large, especially wedding related dresses, which is a topic I can't even bring myself to get into right now, another time maybe... But, as I am being sized, fully clothed, the woman tells me, "You're about an eight hip, but a six bust..." and then she realized that I may have been offended by the suggestion that I'm pear shaped, and maybe rightfully so, I've never considered myself pear shaped... So she says quickly "Well- Thats okay though. We can just put in *a little* padding, and you wont even need it altered." and I reply, flattly, "I'm already wearing padding."

Therapy Burn

So, this all started as a self-therapy experiment, but armed with the knowledge that I should always spread my interests, I also see a traditional therapist.

Once a week I sneak into town and stare at this woman for an hour. And I talk, mostly about the week. I don't think I'm very good at therapy, and I imagine its pretty frustrating to listen to me rant. Something like listening to a second-hand book review. And then I leave, wondering if she got anything from that, as if the session was to benefit her. Well, that was my plan for today until she called me at 9am, which, by the way, is such an insult. For her to know I'd still be at home, in bed, and not at work, or out, or somehow unavailable because I'm a contributing member of society totally burns me up. So, she says she's in the hospital, and she'll have to cancel our meeting for today. And then she's going on vacation, so she'll see me at the end of the month. And I just say "You'll really do anything to get out of this, wont you?" Honestly though, I think hospitalization is going a little far.

Mom Burn

I was sitting in my parent's living room, visiting my mother at about 8 o'clock this evening, and we were talking friendly about the parents of people she works with, and the company who mows her lawn in Florida, when my mother stood up, and walked into the dinning room, and I followed her. "Pie?" She asks. I decline. "Coffeecake?" I decline. "Do you need anything?" She says, as she sifts through her pantry, I say quickly, No.
 

Her pantry has had the same dry goods in it since I was in high school. There have been multiple logo changes --full companies have gone out of business-- since she replaced any of that food. We move into the laundry room, and out onto the porch. She hugs me and says "Alright then, Goodnight sweetheart." Except I wasn't leaving. Well, I was now, but I hadn't thought I was before. I didn't even have my shoes on.

I was kicked out of my own house by my own mother. burn.

Also, I saw six skunks. two biggins and four little ones. They were very
cute, and I did get a picture.