The Moose Never Forgets

FullSizeRender.jpg

I rarely go clothes shopping.  If I go, its usually to a Marshall’s near my house, where I have a secret parking space that gets me in and out as fast or slow as I want.  Unfortunately, I also look like I never go shopping.  The other day I held up my jeans to look at them and sadly, I could see light coming in through the fabric. I told myself that I needed to get a new pair of jeans and quit postponing the fitting room by using the excuse that I have hopes of losing weight. It was similarly unfortunate that I mentioned this to a young girlfriend of mine who has a mind like a steel trap and forgets nothing.

Last Sunday, she texted the ill fated words, “what are you doing today?”  We agreed to meet at the mall after church.  The mall, the place I hate more than almost anywhere else on earth. I bucked up and decided to purchase some jeans if possible.  But first, she said, “Let’s go into  my favorite store so I can buy some new tops for work.” As we stood in line to pay she said, why don’t you try on some of their jeans brand since I really like them.  You never know, they may fit.

I walked out having ordered a pair for delivery to the house. Time ticked away and we moved on to the second, third and fourth store.

Eventually, we ended up in that store that reeks of perfume and cologne where my friend wanted to try on more jeans for herself.  Good bargain shoppers that we are, we went to all the sales racks where she found a cute little dress to try on.  She went on ahead and grabbed a fitting room.  After a little while I hear, “Caro? Caro. Can you come here?”

I walked over and she whispered, “You may have to come help me out of this. I’m stuck.”

I stepped through the door to find her in the cute little dress looking lovely.  Sadly, it was too tight for her liking, so she decided against it.  When she went to pull the slip-on dress over her head she discovered that her shoulder blades and ribs would not allow the dress to slip off.

As in everything we do, we started to laugh.  Grasping for a quick solution I said, “well, maybe you need to unzip it.”

“Yeah, I did that. It’s on the side, open all the way.”

“Ok, well lift your arms.” She did as told and those darn shoulder blades and muscles popped out.

Too much time on that punching bag I said to myself. “Ok, hmmmmm release your breath as much as you can.  Empty out your lungs.”   She did as told to no avail.

We started to laugh again.

“Look, it went on, it will come off. Put you arms up and I’m just going to pull,” I said.  I pulled and she dropped her weight into her knees to help.  Eventually, she giggle-wiggled her way out of the cute little dress. I said, “I am sooo writing a story about this,” and we fell apart laughing again.

As she paid for some items, I looked up at the moose on the wall.  It seemed to shake its head in disbelief.  When I told her what I imagined, she rolled her eyes (sign language for saying, you are a dork).  I reassured her that the moose only winked at me.

Later that night as we prepared for dinner at my house, she started laughing.  I thought she was having trouble opening a bottle of wine, so I asked her if she needed help.  She smiled and said, “No, I just remembered something, but I don’t want to tell you in case you already forgot.”

I said, “Forgot that I said I was going to write about your fitting room experience? No way!”

She sighed and threatened to change her privacy setting on FB so her friends won’t read this.

200326405-001

I waited two days to write this, just to see if she forgot about it….

Thanks for being my friends.

Advertisements

About Caro

I am a social worker by training and a peace officer by profession having worked with California’s delinquent youth and young adults for 28 years. I firmly believe that our development as humans depends on our environment and that sometimes we get stuck. As such, I write about those things we sometimes ignore or fail to see until we are forced to pay attention.
This entry was posted in Auto-Biographical Fiction and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.