I have thought this for a while now as I regularly shop for my three daughters, but it just really hit me yesterday at WalMart. I may, on occasion, look like a weirdo in a store. I know to some friends this may not come as a shock. I know many friends thought I looked like a serial killer when I use to wear my golf shirts buttoned right up to the top and tucked into my jeans. Or, in college, when I came back from a semester abroad with a full beard. However, in the circumstance I am talking about right now, I am completely innocent.
My wife had asked me to pickup underwear for our 10 year old daughter. I had no idea I would have to decide if she would like briefs, hipsters, or bikini style. I needed to decide whether to get her size 10 or 12 (so she can grow into them). So there I am, with several packages in my hand, and I am looking over them very intently. I probably also had a grin on my face ... But only because I was thinking about something funny I had said earlier in the day that was completely unrelated to the current situation.
So, my concern is that from a far someone could easily get the wrong idea and think I am just a perv getting his kicks in the girls department at WalMart. It also felt different today because these were the biggest sizes in the girls department. I realized I am one size away from handling teenage girls panties. (Hmm. That statement is a lot worse in writing. Oh boy.) I did not have as much an issue buying size 2, 4, 6, or even 8 underwear. I guess the double digit and the beginning of the choices of styles just really got to me.
I guess going forward my options are for the wife to start buying the underwear or only shopping with the girls by my side as evidence that I do have daughters. However, if those options are not available I will have to do it myself. And, I am not even sure how I am going to feel going back there by myself. I already have this uneasy feeling that the store has my picture up in the back office and will be watching me closely each time I enter the store. And because of that, I will probably just run through the girls department and grab whichever package has the right size on it, no matter the style or designs. The only problem with going to fast is if I make a wrong turn I will end up in the women's lingerie department. And I know for a fact that if you handle packages in that department with a grin on your face you do get kicked out of the store immediately. On a different topic, only four more months until I am allowed back in Target!
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Friday, December 6, 2013
Conflicting Priorities: The Elf on the Shelf
"I really dislike our Elf. Second night of season and already forgot to move him. #parentfail"
I posted this on Facebook earlier this week and the response was incredible. One friend responded that I'm probably mad because I did not think of the idea first. While she might be onto something, that is besides the point. This damn Elf just plain drives me insane.
My frustration has nothing to do with all of the creative displays people are doing with their Elves, or the, um, strange predicaments they put them in. It is simply based on the fact that my wife and I forget to move the damn thing more times then not. And then we spend the next morning coming up with excuses why he did not move. He is around for 24 nights and for me that is 24 too many. We do not even do anything elaborate with our Elf. We just move him from one location to another, but even that causes more stress then it should.
My post prompted alot of, um, helpful suggestions: excuses we could use to help explain his lack of mobility, ideas for new Elf locations. A couple friends even suggested I set an alarm each night at 9:45 to remind me to move the Elf.
Unfortunately, that timer conflicts with my long standing alarm that reminds me to steal a piece of the girls' Halloween candy, grab another beer, collapse on the couch, watch a TV show that I like, and celebrate all of my "angels" being asleep.
Ironically, my post about the Elf also generated the interest of a producer at HLN's News Now. Tune in today at 3pm to hear the discussion ...
I posted this on Facebook earlier this week and the response was incredible. One friend responded that I'm probably mad because I did not think of the idea first. While she might be onto something, that is besides the point. This damn Elf just plain drives me insane.
My frustration has nothing to do with all of the creative displays people are doing with their Elves, or the, um, strange predicaments they put them in. It is simply based on the fact that my wife and I forget to move the damn thing more times then not. And then we spend the next morning coming up with excuses why he did not move. He is around for 24 nights and for me that is 24 too many. We do not even do anything elaborate with our Elf. We just move him from one location to another, but even that causes more stress then it should.
My post prompted alot of, um, helpful suggestions: excuses we could use to help explain his lack of mobility, ideas for new Elf locations. A couple friends even suggested I set an alarm each night at 9:45 to remind me to move the Elf.
Unfortunately, that timer conflicts with my long standing alarm that reminds me to steal a piece of the girls' Halloween candy, grab another beer, collapse on the couch, watch a TV show that I like, and celebrate all of my "angels" being asleep.
Ironically, my post about the Elf also generated the interest of a producer at HLN's News Now. Tune in today at 3pm to hear the discussion ...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)