i hate shopping. i really do. i'm one of those girls that shatters the stereotype, because in my opinion, shopping fuckin sucks. i mean, i have to be in the mood for it, and sometimes the right person will help, but otherwise, it's a pain in my ass.
so yesterday i had lunch with an ex-supervisor from two years ago. she showed me pictures of her baby and gave me contact information for her sister who lives in paris and is going to put me up when i visit. how amazing is that? afterwards i went to the library to research my seminar. then i went . . . shopping.
i hadn't planned to but i figured what the hell. i had seen such lovely things in this one particular store so i went back there. i foraged through the aisles until i was weighed down by a bunch of pretty summer things and went into the dressing room. holy shit. just because something is in your size and actually fits you does not make it a good fuckin idea.
also, is there anything worse than a small dressing room? it's just you, your body, and three gigantic mirrors on all sides, right on fuckin top of you. i nearly ran out of there screaming. i'd like to meet one of the sadistic fucks who designs these things and shove a few zeppoles down her/his throat.
i was so upset that all i ate for the rest of the day (read: 3:00 p.m. until 9:00 a.m. this morning) was one of those little weight watchers "dinners" (i don't eat meat, and potatoes and broccoli ain't no dinner) and pretzels. i woke up in pain all through the night. boyfriend was pissed. he doesn't think i take decent care of myself.
for someone who spews a lot of bullshit on her blog about loving your body and it's fun to be big!, i sure do a lot of stupid things.
today i went shopping with boyfriend and found a couple of skirts and a top that i'm in love with. and the dressing room was bigger. so i feel better.