A friend and I were going for a walk at the mall combined with shopping for two ‘must have’ additions to my wardrobe: a pair of black dress pants and a gray skirt. She understands about my SPS, so was unfazed at my army camouflage print baby stroller (surrogate walker) to carry my 50lb. purse, hiking pole, and bottled water. With my SPS perception, going into a mall is leaving rear flank obscurity to charge from the front line in an active war zone.
I love to go shopping with a girlfriend. Unlike a man, girlfriends are not bored to a glassy-eyed catatonic state while you are in the fitting room on Mission Impossible to find a good fit to enhance your figure–for a reasonable price. When you need an honest opinion, a girlfriend will give it to you straight, not a beleaguered, cookie-cutter, “It looks great, Sweetheart. Ready to go?”
I found a church-appropriate length pencil skirt. On my slender frame, I looked like Olive Oyl. Opening the door, my assessment was confirmed with my friend’s opinionated, “You need a shorter skirt.”
Girlfriends also understand the importance of color. Charcoal gray or pale gray. “Go with the light gray. Summer is coming,” her female wisdom suggested. I hadn’t thought of that. So the shorter pale gray skirt it was.
Sunday morning, I decided on wearing my new pale gray skirt with a black sweater and lacy black nylons. SPS decides to wrestle with me. After a 10-minute aerobic, contortionist match on the couch, I triumphantly donned my fashionista pantyhose in a victory over SPS symptoms.
I was feeling fashionably good as I went to church. My girlfriend approached me with a big smile and said, “You’ve got your hoochie mama skirt on.”
From Olive Oyl to a hoochie mama. I have to plead innocent. I was influenced.
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