Who Chooses Dressing Room Lighting and What is Wrong With Them?!?

I played hooky from the gym yesterday because I’m old and falling apart. In order to preserve what is left of my seemingly deteriorating physical ability, I decided to forgo my Body Combat class in hopes that I’ll be back to normal by Monday. Since I had nothing to do at home and I wasn’t chaperoning Caroline’s field trip to the Natural History museum, I did what I do best: I went shopping.

I’m on the prowl for running shorts. I’ve been on the lookout for quite some time, but haven’t been very successful in my search. With time to kill, a spirit filled with high hopes and, not to mention, Craig’s newly deposited paycheck in the bank (cha ching!), I set out on my quest.
Hey, I might not be able to run, but I can still shop.

Finding a decent pair of running shorts seems like a simple request, right?
Um, it’s not.

It seems like nothing is simple these days?

Or, perhaps my running shorts requirement list is a little on the lengthy side.

I want shorts that are made of that dry-wick material; not thick cotton. I don’t want shorts that ride up; running with an atomic wedgie is most uncomfortable. I don’t want shorts that are too short and show off my thunderous thighs. If I had skinny chicken legs, I wouldn’t object to short shorts. However, skinny and/or chicken legs are words that have never been used to describe my lower limbs. The foot pounding impact of running sends shock waves of rippling, wobblyness up and down my legs. It’s best for everyone involved if I keep the majority of my leg parts covered.

Trust me.
Here’s the big kicker: I’m cheap. I don’t want to spend $30 on running shorts. The very idea of spending that much on one pair of shorts gives me the shivers.

So, I went to TJ Maxx. I found a nice pair of running shorts for $9.99 that I thought would work, so I brought them to the dressing room to see if they fit. And this is where I was suddenly reminded of how much I HATE DRESSING ROOMS. The mirrors! The lighting! Ugh. Horrible.

Every single solitary vein in my legs was visible under that unforgiving lighting. Every dimple and curd of cottage cheesy cellulite….visible. I felt like collapsing into a heap on the floor and crying big tears of over-dramatic pity.

Yes, it was THAT bad. Trust me. I’m not usually melodramatic (never!) so you should definitely believe me.

This whole experience brought me back to a sunny Florida afternoon about five years ago when all my hopes and dreams were crushed with one rear-view look in the three way mirror. We were visiting my parents and I escaped to a local store to do a little recreational shopping. I found some exercise clothes to try on, so quite naturally, I ventured in to the dressing room. And that, my friends, is where I discovered that the back my 28 year old thighs (sigh, so young!) were defiled. Defiled by cellulite. Where did it come from? And, more importantly, why? How long had it been there? I’m sure it was there long before I came face to face with it in that fateful dressing room, but I’m choosing to believe that it just appeared out of the blue. It was truly one of the most horrifying, esteem lowering experiences of my life. And one that I’ll never forget.

I’m still not over it.

And the cellulite? Still there.

I workout diligently, have increased my running mileage significantly and yet, that cellulite is as stubborn as it’s owner. It’s not going anywhere.

I’m sure the abundant stash of ice cream in my freezer has nothing to do with it.

I ended up not getting the shorts because they were a little too big and a little too light blue in color. The length was decent, but I wasn’t completely sold. If I can’t stop thinking about them, I’ll go back, but for now, I’m still without a new pair of running shorts.

To cheer myself up after my horrifying florescent light filled dressing room experience, I hopped next door to HomeGoods. Discount dishware and linens have an uncanny knack for cheering me up.

I didn’t buy anything, but I had fun perusing the aisles all the while wishing some kind stranger would charitably hand over a $100 HomeGoods gift card for my shopping pleasure. Oh come on, you know you wish for things like that, too.
As it turns out, reality is nothing like my dream world and no one gave me any money, BUT I did find the perfect Mother’s Day gift for my mom.

What do you think?


I don’t know what it is, but it has a clown wearing a beret! She’ll love it!

Wait? It’s not a clown?


It’s a laughing leprechaun.

Whatever it is, Parisian clown or laughing leprechaun, it’ll be in the mail soon.

Muahahahaha.
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4 responses

  1. You laugh now, but I also saw a nice glass frog that would look great in your house. I'm still debating between the two. But, you know me, I'll probably go with my old standby Mother's Day gift: nothing!! 😉

Yo.

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