Fat Jeans

I am in the need/search for jeans. If you are a woman, you can sympathize with me about how terrible it is to shop for this particular clothing item. It is my Hell. I kid you not, I have gone in The Buckle and tried on 15 pairs of jeans and left with 0 pairs of jeans. The salespeople there now avoid me.

Every time I replace a pair of jeans, I find myself thinking of my 6th grade self. I wont lie to you; I was a fatty. I’m sure all of you went through a chubby stage as well. And if you didn’t, I hate you. I’m just kidding…sort of.

I can still recall when I realized there was “an issue.” I was in Old Navy with my mom and she had an armful of jeans for me to try on. So, we ventured back into the dressing rooms and I started trying on the jeans. I of course had reasons for why they wouldn’t fit, “these are skinny jeans,” “I’m sure these just run small,” and my favorite “It’s Old Navy! Their sizes are weird.” I can still see my mom trying to button a pair for me. Her hands went completely limp because she was laughing so hard. Word to the wise; don’t laugh when someone is trying on jeans. But, honestly, who wouldn't have laughed? It was like buttoning jeans on a seal. I of course ripped the jeans off and threw them across the dressing room and began to laugh and cry at the same time. Needless to say, I left Old Navy that day with no jeans. If only they had made Spanx back in the day for chubby 6th graders! I’m pretty sure that’s when the word “exercise” was introduced into my vocabulary.

That experience scared me for life and I’m pretty sure the reason I detest jean shopping and “fat jeans.” If you’re ever in a dressing room and hear a girl a few doors down giggling, it’s probably me reliving the horror that was “Biggest Loser…Old Navy Style.”

Mind Your Business

I enjoy shopping. I really do. Grocery stores. Malls. Target. Bookstores. There are times, however, when I avoid stores because I’m embarrassed to purchase something. Recently, it was going to buy all three copies in “The Hunger Games” series, a purchase I reserved for Amazon.com. I just couldn’t bring myself to walk into Barnes & Noble to buy three young adult novels. I save my Barnes & Noble purchases for biographies or classics, like “Catch 22.” I like to appear as though I have a very large brain.

I don’t know why I do this. It’s as if I fear someone saying, “Really? Hunger Games? How old are you, 13?” But, I don’t feel like this fear is unfounded. Especially after the three encounters I have recently had.

It is fall and I think we all know what that means! Honeycrisp Apples. They are amazing and I look forward to them every year. This is what the clerk had to say to me when checking out:
Clerk: Wow. Honeycrisp Apples. These are an absolute rip-off. You know, we have organic apples that are half the price.
Me: Um, no. I want those.
Clerk: Well, you’re paying too much for these.
What I should have said: Excuse me? I want these apples, not some gross, mealy apples that don’t taste good. Mind your business and ring me up.

This encounter was quickly followed by:
Bagger: Wow. This is a lot of “Sour Punch Straws.” What are you using them for? Are they all for you?
Me: Um, no. They’re for my students.
What I should have said: Excuse me? Why are you asking me about my candy purchases? What are you trying to say? What if they were all for me? Mind your business and bag my straws!

This encounter came the following week at Target when I was purchasing snacks for our weekly youth soccer games:
Clerk: Wow. Somebody has the munchies this morning.
Me: Oh, that’s funny. No. I’m going to my niece’s soccer game today and she placed her snack order last night, so I’m just picking it up. *Awkward Laugh*
Clerk: Oh, okay, then.
What I should have said: Excuse me? What if this was all for me? Maybe I’m going home to stuff my face in this box of Cheese Itz, fruit snacks, and Hershey bars. Mind your business and ring me up!

The point of the story? No commentary about my purchases, please.

Bat Day

In honor of the World Series, I feel compelled to share a conversation I recently had with my dad.

Dad: Let me tell you something. Bat Day, nowadays, is a shame. When I was a kid and went to Candlestick Park (AKA The Stick) they gave you an actual bat. I mean life size. I mean you could use it. I can still remember going to “The Stick” on Bat Day when Gaylord Perry was pitching. It was the top of the 9th and he was pitching a no hitter. People took their bats and started pounding them against the ground. It was amazing, the sound of the wood against concrete and the cheering.

Me: Wow. That sounds amazing! So did he end up pitching a no hitter?

Dad: No. Guy got up. Hit a base hit.

Me: Oh. Okay. So you didn’t see a no-hitter, then?

Dad: No, Dayna, but I got a bat.

Me: Okay. So, where is this bat? Did you save it?

Dad: Oh, God no. You know your grandpa. I’m sure he said something like, “This is a perfectly good bat. Use the damn bat, Nicky.”

Me: So, what you’re saying to me is that you didn’t see a no-hitter and you don’t have memorabilia from your childhood?

Dad: You have ruined my story, Dayna

Dentist Woes

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that going to the dentist is like going to the gym. You typically leave in pain, but at least feel like you’ve done some good for your body. Today, I just left in pain and if I’m being honest, with a bad taste in my mouth as opposed to minty freshness.

First, my doctor walks in and tells me that we need to put bonds on a few of my teeth because they are shaped like boxes and they should be shaped likes eggs. I said no, a response he didn’t take kindly to. I should have responded: Excuse me? Shaped like boxes? My parents have put thousands of dollars into box shaped choppers and maybe I like them.

This encounter was immediately followed by the dental hygienist coming in and questioning me about life. This is something I never understand. Yeah, shove a mirror and a pick in my mouth and then start asking me questions. Ridiculous. I, however, humor her. I tell her about work and school and student teaching and give a little update about the family. Not complaining, just chatting. I then take to opportunity to ask her about some plaque issues and this how she responds, “it sounds like you’re running yourself ragged and I’m sure the plaque is a direct result of that.” I quickly respond, “Oh, I thought maybe I was breathing through my mouth.” I should have responded: Wait, what? Excuse me? Seriously? Running myself ragged? HOW DARE YOU.

This was quickly followed by her telling me that my sealant had worn off on one of my teeth and followed by “I’m sure it’s not anything you did, so I’ll fix it at no charge.” I didn’t reply, but should have said: “WOW! Thanks, for fixing something you probably didn't do correctly in the first place. I mean, really!”

I then left the office with this lovely exchange fresh in my mind.

Me: I need a new whitening kit.

Nurse: Why? Your teeth are white. You can’t make your teeth whiter than your eyes. If you do people will know you whiten your teeth.

Me: Okay, I still need the kit.

What I should have said: Give me the damn whitening kit and I don’t care if people know that I whiten my box shaped teeth. I mean really!

So, next time you see me, please ignore my box shaped, overly white teeth.