OMG , is she pregnant?

Paige's recent post about transgressing gender norms got me thinking about the many character traits that keep me from being your typical female. Oh, let me count them. Pull up a chair, it could take a while.

Kidding aside, one of the things that immediately popped into my head was that I hate shopping. I actually loathe and dread it. The act of gleefully driving to the mall on a busy Saturday to rummage through clearance racks or hold mini-fashion shows in the Misses department is as foreign to me as, oh, I don't know, avoiding inappropriate eye contact with strangers (I could never!).

I only go clothes shopping if it's a dire situation (must have a skirt for that interview! All sweaters are now rags suitable only for dusting!). Part of this, I think, is because I am not from what you would call a shopping family. My mother hates shopping. When I was little, we shopped at a lot of thrift stores and I wore a considerable amount of my older brother's clothing (which was especially charming during the eye patch and short hair phase). An afternoon at the mall putting purses on plastic was never a typical event. To this day, if I ever spend a lot of money at once, I get all anxious and clammy about it, simply because I come from thrifty folk, and all this time with high-falutin' FASHION could be better spent sewing my niece a new poppet out of rags and dried corn stalks.

My other issue is that I've had this life-long issue with purchasing ill-fitting clothes. I only truly came to this realization when Connie told me as gently as possible that sometimes my threads look like they were made for a 50-year-old twice my size. (Case in point... I thought I was so clever when I found it on clearance..)

So of course it would be case that I am bopping around in awkwardly baggy tops and jeans that are unintentionally low-slung. When you hate shopping, you'll grab the large instead of trying on the medium because you know the large or extra-large will fit! If you try on a smaller size, that means lines for the fitting room, surly attendants, and several moments of flustered self-loathing while you stare at the unforgiving mirrors, wondering if the people waiting can see your hairy ankles.

But now I know, when I go out to The Store, I will have to be better. The need for this was really driven home last week when I got a glimpse of myself in the window walking down the street. The crotch of my pants was hanging at least three inches below where it belonged. When I got to the subway stop, I pulled a Stacy and Clinton to inspect the fit, and came away with a fistful of fabric from the hip region. I (like everyone) have issues buying pants because of the drastically different sizes and fits among brands, or the fact that I am often in between those sizes. But enough is enough. I looked like a cross between M.C. Hammer and a plumber. Things were not looking good. I couldn't even blame it on a miraculous weight loss (as if!) or stretched-out fabric. I bought the pants--hell, let's call them SLACKS-- recently, and they were freshly washed!

Anyway. That's all I have to say. There is no real point to this post except to tell you that I don't know how to buy clothes. Think of it as a plea for help. And what more to do you want for me after I've pledged 20 posts in 30 days. Not everyone can be a winner. Or dressed in nice clothing. That fits.