“But it fit in the store!”

I cannot count how many times I’ve said that. I have an entire drawer full of “But it fit in the store!” clothes and frankly, I’m sick of it.

The jeans with the saggy butt.

The shirt that isn’t long enough.

The dress — that purple bubble WHAT WAS I THINKING dress.

I know my body shape does not magically change when I step through a dressing room door. Why then do I find myself cursing my wardrobe and wondering if I happened to forget taking a hallucinogenic drug before throwing down my debit card because seriously? SERIOUSLY?

I need to go shopping. This is no secret, as I’ve been anticipating no longer saving for a wedding and skipping off to the mall where I will perform Mary Tyler Moore-esque spins in the center of J Crew, rolling around in cardigans and skinny jeans and slouchy boots until I pass out from all the excitement and the smell of fresh leather.

I had plans to do it last weekend. But I started reading a book (Reading! On a Saturday! All leisurely like with nothing to plan!) and got so wrapped up in it that by the time I showered, it was almost time for Michael to come home from work and spending time with the new hubby trumped shopping. Plus it was raining, and, well, meh.

So then I thought maybe I’d go this weekend, but with it being period week plus all the extra post-wedding baked goods I’ve been consuming, I think it’s better to just wait and let the monthly bloat/cookie belly dissipate a little before entering any dressing rooms.

Because you know what will happen if I go now, right?

“But it fit in the store!”

And I am not coming home with bags of stuff I will hate in a week. No. Not happening.

Although I could go shoe shopping. I haven’t bought shoes in a verrrry long time. And you know, no matter how much bloat or cookies you’ve consumed, shoes always fit.


In the store and at home.

Now someone please explain to me the fit-in-the-store-but-not-at-home phenomenon because I DON’T GET IT.