Another Reason I Don't Belong In Society

I love Target. I’m just going to come right out and say it. If I get an evening to myself, I’m probably going there. I have to look at just about everything in the store. I need ample time to peruse. I especially love the stores that have a Starbucks in them. Then, I can enjoy a Chai Latte while I bask in all that the Red Dot Boutique has to offer.

I have a system. I have to look at the bags and accessories, followed by the clothes and workout gear, clothes for Bird, shoes, household cleaners (just to make it an official work-related excursion), toiletries, cosmetics, books and lastly food (almost everything is less expensive at Target). Of course, I often get led astray by the other bargains within the store but I never leave without looking at all of the above mentioned sections. It is crucial to cover all ground; I don’t want to miss a deal.

When I’m at Target, alone, I’m in the zone. I don’t want to text or answer my phone. I’m not thinking about anything other than what a great deal something is and how I can justify buying another pair of shoes. Last week, as I was browsing the shoes, I heard a little voice say, “Do you like these shoes?” Thinking nothing of it, I carried on until I heard it again. I realized the voice was talking to me! Someone wants my fashion advice? Really? Sure enough, there was a cute, little mom asking for my help. Alright. I will oblige. Us moms have to stick together, you know.

She says, “My son hates these shoes but I like them what do you think?” Her son is about six. I’m thinking you’re probably better to take his advice since he actually sees people on a daily basis. They were cute shoes (I read magazines, I know these things). I told her I liked them. She proceeds to tell me that she’s just a busy mom. She doesn’t have time to make outfits but she doesn’t want to just run around in Yoga pants all the time. I happen to be wearing Yoga pants. While, I’m not “running around” in them currently, I did run earlier and shower afterwards which is WHY MY HAIR IS ALSO WET. I point this out to her. She says, “Yeah, I just came from my kickboxing class.” Totally goes over her head that she’s possibly offending the person she’s asking fashion advice from. Whatever. Obviously, she thinks I’m okay-looking or else why would she ask for my opinion.

Then, she whips out another pair of shoes and asks about them. I should so charge for this shit. Nope. I don’t like them. They look like Birkenstocks but the strap has sequins. This is not a good look for most people. She proceeds to tell me again that she’s just a busy mom. I’m like, well, I heard you the first time but maybe you want to talk. I don’t see a lot of people every day; I have no coworkers so I am eager to make a new friend. So I start to tell her about how I understand and, again, she starts to tell me that she’s a busy mom! I’m not good with people. I get nervous. I’m much better here behind my computer. The things going through my head are frightening me. My palms are sweating. I don’t want to talk anymore. What do I say? She thinks I’m crazy. I’m just looking at her nodding, smiling and gesturing to my Yoga pants and wet hair. I’m chanting to myself, “Just be agreeable.” Nodding and smiling and sweating…I hate when strangers talk to me! Again! She’s reminding me again that she is busy! I’m all is this the part where I say Amen? Alleliujiah? Praise the Lord? Busy moms! Amen! Should I sing? Chant? Throw rice at her? Oh, God, it’s too much! I can’t help you anymore! Ask the six-year old! I’m out. It’s hard being a social reject. I’m backing away.

The best part about this is that I obviously did not learn my lesson. We worked on cleaning out our basement yesterday so I didn’t shower until late in the day (who am I kidding I never shower until later these days). I needed to get out of the house so I went to Target. You’ll never guess what I was wearing?  Did I have wet hair?  Check!  I can't help it!  I have wavy hair!  It looks better if it air dries...