The problem with losing weight is that pretty soon your pants stop fitting. So I decided to spend money I don't have in an attempt to find pants that don't fall off of my ass.
I couldn't find any pants, however, after searching through the racks at Gordmans, I found a really cute flowered bra. It's great. Pushes the twins up a little bit and together, without making me look like Pamela Lee before the reduction.
So I take my purchase, and promptly find my spot in the longest line in the history of shopping, in front of a line consisting mostly of obnoxious males and their friends.
I handed my purchase to the oldest living cashier in Iowa, who tries four or five times to scan it. Nothing. She tries to call for a price check over the intercom. "I need a price for a flowered bra, size 36 CC for this young lady". I swear to god, I thought this only happened in movies.
"36 CC!" at this point the man beside me looked at me, and snickered.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, I just thought they were bigger than that".
This kids, is why someday you are going to find me locked in my apartment with a hundred cats and newspapers dating 20 years ago.