Revenge is a dish best served cold...
Tonight I took my mom and the Yoys up to the mall to walk around and grab an early dinner. Post dinner we passed by my ex-most favorite clothing store in the world.
We are exes because their store manager was a royal b*tch to me about 8 months ago after I had been a loyal customer of theirs going on 15 years.
For those of you that know me, you are aware of my giant stature. My ex-favorite store was the first to offer tall sizes in their pants and jeans. I no longer had to custom order my 36 inch inseam khakis from the overpriced J-Crew catalog.
But my ex's coupons kept on coming in the mail and as I walked by the store windows day after day, I longed to try on pants that actually fit me. Tonight my mom nudged me to go in. She would walk around with the Yoys in the stroller and let me browse.
Well, looking wouldn't hurt. It's not like we are getting back together.
Before I knew it, I ended up with an armload of clothes to try on. What AM I doing? My mom strolled the Yoys back to the dressing room because they were getting "edgy".
Big E begged to get out of the stroller so mom sprung him loose. He wanted to come in the dressing room with me, which was fine. I already shower and go to the bathroom with an audience, so trying on clothes is cake.
As soon as I shut the door, Little E went insane. Apparently he, too, wanted in on the dressing room fun. We were beginning to make a scene. My mom grabbed our purses and Little E and all four of us ended up in the dressing room the size of an airplane bathroom. Talk about a good time.
I'm frantically pulling clothes on and off. Little E has a constant whine going on. It's like white noise to me, but I'm sure everyone within earshot was wishing we'd leave.
Then Big E had a poonami and slowly we were being hot boxed to death in our little dressing room.
Little E was holding on to the chair with his sippy cup in his mouth. He lost his balance and plunged to the floor. In the process he impaled his tongue with the straw. Now he was really screaming.
For the love of pete! Can't a girl get some new sweaters?
In the middle of his screaming fit, Little E dropped out his remaining dinner from his mouth. He stores food in his cheeks. It is a habit we are trying to break before he chokes to death.
I quickly grab a few tops that I think I like. We have got to scram. We rush out of the dressing room. Unfortunately there were 4+ ladies waiting to check out all with incredulous looks on their faces. They had heard everything.
Whatever. You try being a fashion forward mom.
We left the dressing room a mess. A little food, a little smelly, but a smile crept onto my face as I saw the store manager enter the dressing rooms. I hope Ms. Nasty walks into that dressing room and gags.
VINDICATION IS MINE!
P.S. This is almost as good as my bridal boutique story, but I'll save that for another day.