For a little over a year now, I have been going to Ladies Night Out almost every Wednesday night. It is a small group of women including my sister, sister-in-law, my mother, my youngest daughter and sometimes a couple of our friends. We meet after work at a chosen restaurant and go off afterwards. Sometimes we just window shop, sometimes we have money and go on a free-for-all.
We hit the stores that our husbands barely tolerate. Ones where we normally feel like we have to rush through when they are with us because they are standing there shifting from one foot to another and sighing and looking at their watches. Places like department stores, clothing shops, art galleries, craft stores, fabric stores, well let’s face it, anywhere that doesn’t carry tools or sporting goods.
Sometimes we sit and drink coffee and practice the art of people watching. Sometimes we check out a chick flick that our husbands wouldn’t be caught dead watching. There is something about the freedom of being able to blubber in the movie theatre without having a husband beside you rolling his eyes and saying “O.M.G. You’re crying over THAT?” Now I can blubber anytime I want. And I definitely am a blubberer. I can admit that I cried when Charlotte died in Charlotte’s Web and when poor Nemo got lost, I was inconsolable.
We girls spend the evening catching up our week, gossiping about the latest happenings on Biggest Loser, who we are rooting for on Amazing Race and any other current crap tv reality show (we are addicts, I tell you). Speaking of which, have you seen “Toddlers and Tiaras”? A total trainwreck, but I cannot seem to look away…
My sister-in-law is the shopping efficianado. She has an eye for clothing and a love for shoes and an amazing way of locating a clearance sale. If something is marked with a 60% discount, she has the ability to come up with the discounted price before my sister and I can even begin to pull out our calculators. She is a big fan of the show “What not to Wear”, so when my sister and I find ourselves in the dressing room with questions on fit or taste, she is the first to jump in there and tell us like it is.
She is convinced that without her fashion sense, my sister and I would be wondering around town looking like dumpster divers. She keeps us from choosing oddly fascinating patterned things such as these.
And when we were looking for sexy jammies, she moved us away from these. Guessing the husband wouldn’t be impressed by the bunny ears, but we certainly were. Ha!
She demands that we get the little foot pantyhose to try on shoes so that we can determine a good fit. Rather than the way my sister and I prefer- with our sports socks on.
She keeps us out of the teenage clothing stores, explaining in her patient tones that even if we CAN fit our butt in it, that doesn’t mean we should wear it.
She has perfected THE LOOK which protects us from “Mall Hazards”. She helps us to avoid the folks that want to lure us into the massage chairs and the lady with the hair straightener that tries so hard to demo that straightener that she has used on countless heads throughout the day.
There are the perfume spraying folks in the department stores, the hand soaking lady that wants to put your hands in who knows what and the dude that needs to sell you another new and improved cell phone. And those folks with all the little trays of sample bitey things that chase you about the food court will totally steer clear when my sister-in-law shoots them the soon to be patented LOOK. We are truly safe in her presence.
So, my sister-in-law went out of town last week, and we did not have someone to keep us in line. Bedlam ensued. With my sister at the helm, we headed for the mall after dinner with intentions of looking at jewelry. My sister was in the market for a chain.
I hang my head as I type this because I know my sister-in-law reads my blog, but confession is good for the soul. We did not get the chain on clearance. It was full price. We were very close to purchasing a pair of fishnet leggings that caught our eye, but money was tight after getting the chain. They certainly would have looked great with the polyester salmon-colored suit I almost bought.
And then we walked into the mall and were instantly accosted by the massagy dudes. Before I could rescue her, my sister already had a neck massage and a foot rub against her will. I quickly pulled her out and backed directly into the hair straightener lady who got a couple good swipes on my hair and then snagged my daughter who was wearing hair extensions that instantly melted all over the straightener, giving us a chance to make our escape.
We managed to get out of the mall in one piece, although somehow I had purchased two extra cell phones and some sort of organic seaweed-type handcream. Oh… and the sample bitey things- they were delicious.
All was not lost, though. I did find an awesome pair of heels. Would have bought them too, but they didn’t go very well with my sports socks.
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