I was at Nordstrom over the weekend and happened to be passing by the hosiery section when something caught my eye. Something bright. Something…unnatural.
None of these nouns or adjectives are pejorative in or of themselves, but together? So strange. So odd. So unnecessary.
I mean, it’s possible they weren’t pajamas. They were in the pajamas section, so I made an assumption, but it’s possible they were just parked there on their way to…the circus section? I don’t know. I can’t imagine an instance where that garment is au courant outside the context of a circus. A festive, overpriced circus.
In non-sartorial news, I passed by an ex-boyfriend at the selfsame Nordstrom (though thankfully not in the Hosiery section). We did that thing where we recognized each other, then looked away real fast and pretended we didn’t because neither one of us had any interest in the awkward stop-and-chat. And oh, it would have been. Awkward, that is.
He and I did not part on friendly terms. I would have been perfectly content to have never seen him ever again, and yet, there he was. Yikes. This is the problem with living in the same neighborhood where you went to high school. There are exes and memories all over the darn place.
At least I could take comfort in knowing that I was with my daughter, who is delightful, and I was wearing makeup. I once crossed paths with a sort-of ex while I was 1,000 months pregnant and wearing sweats and a ratty t-shirt with no makeup and let me tell you, that is not how I’d like to be remembered as a grown-up. Still, he was really sweet so, y’know, I didn’t spend too much time worrying about it.
Let this be a lesson to you: If you live in the same area where you went to high school, or are visiting, always look presentable when you leave the house. Exes are frigging everywhere.