Shopping with John..

...or here let me pull your fingernails out with pliers. The words "I need some clothes" coming out of my husband's mouth literally send me running, hands shaking for the Zantac. I just know that before it is over, I am going to have a serious case of stress induced indigestion in the very near future. Over the past 6 1/2 years of marriage, shopping has improved with him, but really everything is relative, right? The clothing search with him can only be related to when I received drugs when I was in labor with my first born, I was still in a LOT of pain, but it was endurable. That is how shopping with him now could be described as opposed to 75 pounds ago, endurable...avoidable if possible, but endurable. (if you have a high pain tolerance or some sick sense of sadism) I heard the words yesterday. I cringed. I begged that he wait until Friday night, I just don't have the energy for it if I have to go to work the next day. It can easily produce a "shopping hangover" I would be no good all day. I have Baby Kendall today. I have to be on top of my game. Finally we agreed that I would stay at work and he would shop on his own. Dangerous, but I was willing to take the risk.
Seventy five pounds ago, shopping with John was a complete nightmare. Here is how it would go...enter Penney's and he runs...literally runs to the dressing room. Honestly, this was the only exercise this man got at that time and of course it would always be right after a visit to Fire Mountain, Ponderosa, or some other buffet type restaurant. (We have not been to one of those in nine months) He would hiss out of one side of his mouth from in the dressing room....
FIND ME SOME PANTS TO TRY ON...

I would obediently run and find pants that would fit him. Let me tell you if you have never shopped for men's pants, the bigger they are, the closer they are to the floor. What retailer invented that system? So I am on my hands and knees digging and praying that they will have pants in his size and length and that they will please be loose and not reflect the second helping of meat at the buffet. I take them to the dressing room where he is waiting and excuse myself for walking in on four other men and hand the pants to him and bow my head. Please God, let this be short and let these pants fit. God has not answered many of my shopping trip prayers in the manner which I would like him to...
GET ME A SIZE BIGGER AND IF YOU SAY THE SIZE OUT LOUD I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR BUTT!
He hisses one more time. If I am lucky, this process ends in a mere 5 1/2 grueling hours and no one has gotten hurt. I am exhausted, mad and ready to be home.
I am not even mentioning the work jeans that he buys from Walmart that never had his size. I have slid through Walmarts in at least 15 states looking for them. I have seen the people that shop at Walmart, they are buying all these up quick.

Jump forward to seventy-five pounds later and he has a new liking for Macy's. The slick "slim" salesmen there used to intimidate him but not anymore. Now I hear from across the store as he peruses racks of Ralph Lauren and Tommy Hilfiger...
FIND ME THOSE BEIGE LINENS IN A 36, WILL YOU? HOW ABOUT THAT SHIRT IN A LARGE, THIS EXTRA LARGE IS JUST WAY TOO BIG!!! OH, AND HOW ABOUT THAT A NEW BELT, WHY YES, MR. 34 WAIST SLICKED HAIR SALESMAN IN A SPORT COAT AND TIE, OF COURSE YOU CAN MEASURE ME TO SEE WHAT SIZE I NEED!

Macy's is big, I run everywhere looking for things, I am exhausted, I almost long for the days when I was on my hands and knees looking for that last pair of 46/29 pants on the bottom of the rack.

He shopped on his own last night. He bought pants and shirts. He did well. I think that I might be off the hook. He even brought me a nice pumpkin latte home from Starbuck's. Life is good.