Just Off Center

Wanna know how fucking bored I am today? I’m ditching this place to go fucking clothes shopping. That’s right. I’m going to Arizona Mills to check out the Old Navy store. Hell I might even jump into Ross for a minute.

Last night I went to work and sat next to the guy that I’d classify as most like me in the room. He’s taller than me, but still he’s a white boy who comes across as smart, witty, and a little bit intolerant of idiocy. My kind of fella. Anyway, before I went to work I stopped in at Jamba Juice for an original size Orange-A-Peel smoothie. This place rocks my socks. And the Jamba Juice is located inside one of those healthy groceries called Whole Foods. I spotted one-pound packages of fresh strawberries on sale two for $3.00 so I grabbed a couple, picked up my smoothie and went to the call center.

Once I walked in and had a seat he looked at me and said, “you’re on a diet aren’t you?” I told him that I was. He said he could tell because of the healthy food for one thing, but mainly because every time he’s seen me I’ve worn pants that didn’t fit. Ordinarily this is the time when a straight man starts to wonder what this guy’s doing looking at my pants. (Side note: just then when I typed “doing” I spelled it “dong”. Dong is funny.) I just sort of looked at him weird like, ummm thanks for noticing. That’s when he eased the tension by telling me that he’s kind of an expert on dieting since he’d dropped down to his current, healthy weight from 350 pounds not two years ago.

So like a couple of business women having salad lunches we sat there talking about food and all our favorite restaurants between calls. I shared my strawberries with everyone. There was one girl who took one and about came when she bit into it. She said it had been years since she’d actually eaten a piece of fruit.

Anyway, I’ve been needing some new clothes for a while now. But the problem is two-fold. First, I don’t have money to be clothes shopping. If I had cash to spare I wouldn’t be working two jobs. Nina brought up the valid point that I didn’t have a problem spending when I had one job and she was working or receiving disability. Very true. But I guess since I started the second job I’ve come to appreciate what I do for each and every dollar earned. Clothing is essential, but still seems like kind of a waste. I’d rather spend it on..oh, I don’t know… maybe groceries, mortgage, electricity, and gas.

The second reason I don’t’ buy any clothes is because I may keep changing. A while back when I went with Nina to visit Grace and Steve, I had to buy a pair of jeans for the party because everything else I had was falling off. So I went to Old Navy and got a pair of cool, boot cut jeans. Nina was most proud of me for picking out jeans that looked good on me all by myself. I’m big to pick out my own clothes. To offset her pride I also purchased the infamous “Illest” sleeveless shirt I love so much. The point is that I’m wearing those very jeans today and I didn’t have to even unbutton them to put them on. They’re bunched up around the waste from the belt. So if I go buy some 36 pants now, what if those stop fitting? What a waste. I’ll see if Old Navy will swap these out. But still, I’d hate to waste my money on clothing that I may not get a full use out of.

Nina mentioned that I did purchase a pair of seven-dollar socks. Well here’s the tale of that. I took a long lunch the other day and went to a running store. You see, I’ve switched my exercise regimen a bit to trail running. So I’m learning quickly that street shoes aren’t quite the best thing for jagged rocks and toe bumping into cacti. Also I’ve learned that cotton, for all it’s comfort, is the primary ingredient for blisters. So I went shoe shopping. I found a few really cool pairs that I put on hold. But when I got there, this girl gave me a pair of running socks to put on while I was trying on shoes. I saw the trap here, but I’m in the market for a full rewardrobing of wicking material clothes, so I tried them on. I didn’t buy the shoes, but I decided to keep the socks because (1) they were really comfy, (2) they had already been on my feet, (3) I felt guilty for not buying the shoes, and (4) because I just fucking wanted them.

So now I’m sitting here on a Friday with nothing going on until 11:30, when my supervisor is taking us all out for pizza. Of course, I can’t eat pizza. But fuck it; if he’s buying I’m picking out something I want. Otherwise I’ll just say thanks and make a not-so-discreet exit.

Damn, I’m wasting time. Tempe supermall, here I come… and I’m bringing my estrogen and a Visa.

# posted by Mike @ 9:45 AM