A complete stranger gave me a pity compliment today. I had taken the girls on one of our regularly scheduled, ill-conceived Saturday errand runs and was at the Sundance outlet in Sugar House. I was trying to find something to wear to an important client meeting on Monday.
I rarely have in-person meetings, mainly because I live in Utah and most of my clients are on coasts. But this is a new client that I’ll be doing a lot of work for, and they requested a visit so we could meet face-to-face and vibe each other out. And since the meeting is in the Bay Area, I was like, hell, yes.
But I got a little panicky when I thought about what I could possibly wear to their fancy office in Berkeley. None of my clothes really fit me right now. I mainly wear yoga leggings and sweats and long maternity tunics.
The Sundance store isn’t where I do most of my shopping, but it’s right next to Whole Foods, and I thought I might be able to find something appropriate and steeply discounted there. I’m pretty sure that I am actually in their target market: older women who perceive themselves as outdoorsy even though they never go outside.
Unfortunately, because it’s an outlet store, it’s crammed full of crap spilling out of faux-antiqued wooden trunks and racks and rolling carts and actual wagon wheels. There’s barely any room to walk, never mind maneuver a double-wide twin jog stroller around. Therefore, my mood was increasingly foul as I tried to jam the stroller through tight spots without knocking anything over. I decided to try on some slacks (if this was Anthropologie they’d be pants, but because it was Sundance, definitely slacks), and I managed to shove the stroller inside the rustic barn-esque dressing room, but then I couldn’t simultaneously get me in it. It was me or the jog stroller.
A very nice lady offered to watch the girls for a sec while I tried on the slacks. Normally I would say “no thanks” while thinking “no way!,” but she seemed kind, and in no universe can I imagine a kidnapper hanging out at the Sundance store, so I took her up on it, quickly undressing and re-dressing with my eyes glued to the stroller wheels, my ears peeled for their constant babbles.
It would have been fine, except that the girls are going through this insane stranger-danger phase where they lose their goddamned minds if I am not within sight at all times. Once they get nervous, being in sight isn’t good enough; I actually have to be holding them. And, here’s the catch—not holding the other one. So, I came out of the dressing room, half clothed, and had to pull them both out of their stroller seats and try to balance them on my lap on the floor of the Sundance store while they screamed and attempted to push each other off my lap, fangs bared.
At some point, one of the girls hucked her wooden Waldorf toy so hard it disappeared under a pile of pastel-colored cowgirl mules. I did not even try to dig it out. I’m kind of a Buddhist when it comes to losing things, especially if I have to bend over to get them.
By the time I managed to extract myself from the back of the store and navigate the maze of racks and obstacles back up to the front, I was ready for Calgon.
That’s when the nice saleslady said to me, with blatant sympathy and maybe even a little pity in her eyes, “Wow, I love that color on you. How vibrant and pretty!”
I was wearing an orange tunic. It’s actually more like a burnt sienna, or perhaps a roasted tomato. At any rate, guys, I do not look good in orange. The only reason I was wearing orange was because, like I said none of my clothes fit, so I am beholden to the hand-me-downs of two of my best friends, who both have impeccable taste and complexions very unlike mine. As I was leaving the house, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought, wow, that color really draws attention to your horrible complexion and sallow cheeks. Must start washing face.
I did not look pretty, and I did not look vibrant. I looked frazzled, messy, and like I was about to start crying.
But I appreciated her effort, smiled, and said “Thanks!” as I forged the crazy twin show forward to lunch at the Whole.
