It's Much Easier To Buy Plants Than Pants

Went into Jacksonville yesterday to pay the cable bill and buy some pants. I'm starting a new job at the bookstore today, as sort of an acting Merchandising Manager. The current one will be on maternity leave during Christmas, so they want me to fill in whilst she's gone. I'm starting my training now, and I'll be doing this for about the next 5 or 6 months.

When I'm working a shift, I'll be in charge of the entire bookstore. Which is pretty cool! I'm very excited, and very happy to be receiving the training.

I feel like I'm only 3 degrees of separation away from the Executive Washroom!



But...

Or should I say Butt?

I really need to buy some new work pants. I'll be much more visible, and therefore I'd like to look more professional than usual.

I. Hate. Buying. Pants.

If you're English/British/Whatever The Heck You Like To Be Called, I'm sure you've guessed that I mean trousers and not underwear. Because why would customers care what my underwear looks like? I understand that's what you call 'pants' there.



A couple of days ago I devoted two hours to trying on pants. Two hours of misery and discouragement. Two hours standing under the harsh fluorescent lighting of tiny dressing rooms with funhouse mirrors. Two hours of insensitive clothing store clerks asking, 'None of them worked for you?'



My body is, shall we say...voluptuous? Rubenesque? Zaftig even?

Like Marilyn Monroe in this photo, but with red hair and a much less famous face (I'm working on that).



Very hard for me to find pants that fit and look good.

So what's a girl to do?



Make myself REALLY happy and buy plants instead!!

Why would I spend another two hours wasting my time? Might as well watch paint dry.




Most of my container plantings look really really sad. And I thought I'd take advantage of my last stress free day off until after Hell-mas, and plant some stuff :)

Speaking of other purchases....

I also went into town to buy a baby shower gift for the aforementioned pregnant Merch Manager.

As a rule, I don't do baby showers. Or bridal showers. Or any other sort of party that involves squealing women.

But I decided to stop being a baby pooper and celebrate a friend's pregnancy. Which turned into two. Which turned into three. (I feel like The Count on Sesame Street)

Three of my friends are pregnant at the same time. Due at the same time. How's that for coordination??



Luckily two of them are best friends and are having a joint baby shower.

I'm just so AWKWARD when it comes to these things. I don't feel at all squealy. My biological clock must have a short in it. I feel weird playing all the baby shower games.

When I walked into Babies R Us yesterday, I know I looked like a deer in the headlights. I didn't know where to start! When you walk in and the first thing you see are breast pumps, that's a little intimidating.



(btw, who looks lovingly at a breast pump? That woman's looking at it like it's her baby O_O)


I took a tentative few steps like I was walking into the Coliseum to fight a tiger. At least gladiators were given swords.

I hear, 'Kyna!!' from over to the right.

It was my friend Abby! (who is one of the Pregnant Three) She was also shopping for this particular baby shower, and was on the phone with the third woman of the Pregnant Three. 'Jenn, I gotta go, Kyna just walked in and she looks really freaked out!'



Abby was nice enough to help me through the process. I didn't even know how to use the gift registry thingy. I can't believe I've almost made it to 30 without doing any of this.

Actually I can. I work very hard in avoiding all-female gatherings.



Anyway, wish me luck in my new (albeit temporary) job! :)