It’s that time of the year.
Holidays are over. Super bowl is a memory. Weather is lousy. That damn rodent saw his shadow.
I’m sick of reading, watching movies and catching up on other sedentary things. It’s the winter coma.
There are telltale signs.
I drool over spring clothes catalogs, dog-earing the pages. Spittle forms in the corners of my mouth. I create fantasies of how I would pull the outfit together; what jewelry I would wear; and where I would go with this stunning outfit. (That’s the best part. I have a rather active imagination!)
The outfits are bright. Almost trashy. There are no neutrals. The outside world is enough neutral for me.
I dream about tomato plants. Big and luscious bearing red fruit with juices that run down your chin and stain your clothes. Should I plant them earlier? Earlier tomatoes? It hasn’t worked yet but maybe this year. Maybe this time.
The idea stream is dry as a desert. No ideas! Not just blog ideas but what should I make for dinner? What should I wear? Did I clean out the litter box? Even Jeopardy seems harder. (The brain is hibernating.)
This calls for drastic measures. I need a solution! Now!
Socialization helps but I need more.
Therapy of the retail kind! Although not necessary, I bought rain boots. It will rain at some point in my lifetime and I have boots for that event!
I tried on colorful outfits; looked over the new spring clothes and had a Starbucks chaser. Nirvana!
There is a Victoria’s Secret in our local mall. I am not fond of this shop but I never knew why.
I am not comfortable in it. I prefer shopping in a department store or some other lingerie specialty store like Soma.
I figured it out. As I was perusing the bras, there was a youngish guy ruffling through the undies. Thongs to be exact. For a long time. Really long. Like so long you felt he had to be weird. (Were they for himself or a gift? For a woman or a man?)
There were four customers in the shop and I was the only woman. This is a woman’s underwear store! There was no way I was going to pull out a drawer of bras with all these dudes hanging around. I’m not saying they were at all interested in me but my girls prefer to shop by themselves.
This has happened before. Sometimes women bring their husbands who stand in the middle of the store and ogle at the scanty-clad mannequins (and other women) while they shop. Seriously?
The beloved husband wouldn’t cross the threshold preferring to sit on the outside benches. They need gender restricted areas. They don’t carry jock straps or foot itch spray! Get out of my store!
Despite all that, the therapy worked. I am in better spirits. I will need more sessions until spring truly breaks.
In the meantime I am making a list of things I really need like a citrus juicer and a new can opener. I’m such an exciting person! Just keep that panty dude away from me.