Yesterday the speech therapist covered up the hole in my dad's neck, just for a couple minutes, to see if he could breathe through his mouth. And he can. He can talk.
He is doing better than best case scenario. It's amazing.
The morning at the hospital was covered by my brother and a couple family friends. So Betty and I took the opportunity to head to Costco. We both hate to grocery shop (except Trader Joe's), but for some reason, we love Costco.
While browsing the clothing aisle, where I found the cutest pair of itty-bitty camoflage shorts for my nephew, I came across some very cool True Religion jeans. Because Costco has no dressing rooms, I was holding them up against me and Betty and I were trying to figure out if they would fit.
I can't just look at flat jeans and figure out if my round ass will fit inside. It's kind of like left-overs and tupperware for me. I can never accurately guess if the container is too big or too small for the amount I have.
So I tried putting one leg on over my jeans, but that's ridiculous.
I said, "I'm tempted to just take off my jeans and try these on."
Betty said, "Just do it."
As I was contemplating dropping my pants, a woman about my mom's age wheeled her cart by and said, "Oh, those are cute jeans!"
We got into a conversation with her about the size, how her daughter has had three kids and is as small as me, the fact that you can't try anything on, etc etc.
Betty told her I was thinking about just changing right there. She said, "You go right ahead!"
One one side, we had Betty's cart, which was full of pink azaleas. This woman parked her cart on the other side, and then stood chatting with my mom, so I essentially had a little wall around me.
I turned my back to them and slipped out of my jeans, and shimmied, with some difficulty, into the True Religion pair. Scooch, scooch. Tug tug. I got them up and zipped but I felt like all my ass fat got scooted up and squeezed over the top. And like my legs were in sausage casings. In other words, not my size.
I managed to change with a fair degree of alacrity. Because how mortifying would it be to get kicked out of Costco for nudity?
But what I realized while my pants were off was the following. That my underwear of the day was ridiculous. The random stranger didn't comment, although they were impossible not to notice.
I have this pair of boy shorts. They are purple, with red trim. They have an L on the front. And on the back? The word "luscious" written in red. With a huge red kiss.
Incidentally, when I bought those, I bought Maude an M pair. They have "marvelous" scrolled across the back. Heh.
So anyway, that's me. Lisa the luscious Costco shopping pants dropper.