Confirmation of my hatred towards shopping.

Yes, I don’t think I’m a normal woman. I guess it’s just me being this indecisive person who will eventually get frustrated. I fucking hate shopping.

Today, I went to get an outfit for an impromptu job interview for tomorrow. I thought it’d be really easy–you know, a nice skirt or pants with a nice top that looks at least semi-professional. No. Oh, fucking no. If walking around a store for an hour and a half while being something short of tortured is easy…fuck that.

I came into the store with set rules–a black pant/skirt (even though I’m not very comfortable in one anymore, I’ll deal) and a simple top keeping in mind that it is June, and the interview is going to be in the peak of when it’s hot. So, I’m walking around and I look for black. There’s black and white, and there’s white. There was hardly any solid black. I found a skirt that was solid black, so I picked it up, and went on to find shirts/blouses/tops. I wanted to refrain from no sleeve or short sleeve shirts.

Ain’t this a bitch? There was no in-between. You had the tops that were really cute, but wasn’t appropriate, then you have the others that were a little too thick for my liking. I wanted to stay as cool as possible. I was not getting any breaks here. This is 30 minutes in, and I’m getting quite frustrated at this point. Then it hit me–seeing as I may not get a top that isn’t sheer, then I need a camisole. I think that was the easiest thing through this whole thing. Afterwards, I went to the lower level to see if there’s anything else down there.

I’m walking around, and look through the tops and I saw one that looked really nice. It was actually perfect. Just my luck (and this is where being well-endowed becomes a curse), the biggest size they had was a 1x. The search continues. I get to a rack with a bunch of nice tops, all sheer, but at this point, seeing as I ended up getting a camisole, that would be the least of my problems. The best thing about a black bottom is that you can pretty much match anything with it, so I found a few colorful ones in there, and the mammoth mammary curse strikes again–all were too small. I found two that were interview-friendly. At this point, I’m like, “okay, time to try these on.”

I tried on this orange-ish top and it didn’t look right on me.
I tried on a black top (which I was going to get for House Staff duties for the All Stars Project). Boobage killed it.
Tried on the black skirt. Keep in mind I am not very comfortable with a skirt. Threw that one back.

Went into the dressing room with 4 items, left with one–the freaking camisole.

Plan B (as if there ever was a plan A to begin with): I go back upstairs and I look around for more skirts. I pretty much gave up with the pants because there was mostly just white and more obscure colored pants. I saw a black and white floral skirt. Perfect. I say this because I’m in there for over an hour now. I just want to go home. But I like it, so it’s not a total loss. Now to find a solid black or white top to go with it. I go back downstairs and I look around real hard. Maybe there’s something that doesn’t look like shit on clearance! Nope. I should know better; the clearance rack in a plus-size store isn’t really clearance price anyway, but also it’s got the winter reject clothes. I find this really cute top. The only issue I saw was that the shoulders were cut out, but that was the least of my problems–I have a mom who can alter it a bit if need be. I’m done. I got all my stuff now, time to get the fuck out this place.

And I get home with more issues.

The skirt was too big. Solution? Leave it be–my mom tried altering it and it failed miserably.
The top had more holes than I bargained for. Solution? Alter. No other choice.
Then I realize I don’t have shoes. *smacks herself* Solution? Thank goodness me and my mom wear the same size.

So basically, I’m worse for wear, I’m tired, I’m ready to go to bed, and unless it’s shopping for electronics, I want nothing to do with shopping. Hell. Fucking. No.

Black and white floral skirt: $29.
Black top that needed altering anyway: $34.
Camisole: $10.
Spending an hour and a half in a clothing store ready to snap at a bitch: Priceless.

It all better be worth it. Really.

And that concludes my rant of the day. I’ll probably write something less scathing tomorrow.