Mall Crawl

I had a day off yesterday thanks to a meeting at church (when you’re basically an elected officer on the Board of Directors, you have to make time for these things). Afterwards, I stopped by the comic shop, and that meant that I had to drive past The Mall to get home.

 And as I drove past The Mall, I remembered the $35 gift card to the Fat Girl Clothing Store (FGCS) in my wallet, and the sorry state of my work wardrobe (three pairs of black pants, one pair of grey pants, four shirts I like wearing, two shirts I’ll wear if the laundry hasn’t been done).

Because I’ve been a Fat Girl my whole life, clothes shopping has many, many negative connotations to it. I also come from a very fashion-conscious family, so I was subjected to a LOT of shopping as a child, and my mother still tries to dress me on every occasion she gets*. So when the urge to shop hits me, I do it, because it only happens, oh, once a quarter?

Sitting in the car in the parking lot, I went over the ground rules:

  1. If I look good and feel good in it, I’m buying it.
  2. My goal is two more work shirts.
  3. I’m willing to spend up to $75 total (funding $40 from my Freedom Account).
  4. Bonus points for sale items.
  5. Nothing. With. Fucking. Glitter.

I haven’t been to the mall in ages. And it was sensory overload; I’m sure I had the deer in the headlights look. I walked past some people who were sitting in chairs in an impromptu food-cart food-court who were watching a plasma screen helpfully playing commercials. What the hell is that all about?

For those of you who have never shopped at FGCS, the clothing is all FGCS brand, is fairly sturdy (I wore one pair of pants from here basically every other working day (and for two weeks solid in Japan) for five years before they wore out), and is typically hit and miss between cute/professional and hootchiemama/circus tent.

I did a dash through the store and picked one of everything that I thought looked cute/professional. Onward to the changing rooms, where battle was joined!

Fourteen shirts went in, only one came out. And that one in a different size than the one I’d taken in to the dressing room with me.

Total so far: $19.99, marked down from 42.50.

I had been thwarted in my quest for two professional work shirts, I decided to continue in my quest to own more red t-shirts than anyone, ever. It’s genetic. Mom’s kryptonite is white t-shirts. Long-sleeved, heavy cotton slight v-neck t-shirts were on sale, $14.99 marked down from $24.99.

But it rang up as $24.99.

So I said, “Wait just a minute, that was from the sale rack!”

The salesperson said, “Oh, it was?” and did a price override without checking. Man, if she worked at the Big Blue Box, her behind would be in the LP office faster than you can say “written up”.

My grand total: $34.98. I have two cents left on my gift card.

Yeah, you know how we do it.

*Which I put up with while I’m visiting my mother, and as soon as she’s/I’ve gone home, I carefully fold the clothes after I’m done wearing them, and donate them to various charities, especially Dress for Success Oregon.


The Experiment

What happens when I put as much time and energy into keeping track of my finances as I do in keeping track of my fandoms? Let's find out!

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