Maxigumee

In all the confusion and stress of moving all of my blog stuff over to Movable Type during the weekend, I had forgotten that I also needed to go to the mall to buy a sweatshirt for gym. This was really important. It was Sunday. I had gym the next day and I had already “forgot” my gym clothes because the other sweatshirt didn’t fit. I know, I’m incredibly anal and obsessive about this, shuddup.

Anyway. My father had gone out to Home Depot at like 3:45pm. He wasn’t back in an hour. The mall was closing at six. This didn’t give me much time. I called my father’s cell phone and asked politely where he was and why he was taking so long. And by politely, I mean hysterically shouting into the phone while hyperventilating. I needed to go to the mall. Once I’m at that point, there’s no bother arguing with me.

Anyway, my mother called Kaufmanns, and they were open later than the rest of the mall. We rushed over there when my father got back. At the store, I picked out a Nike sweatshirt. I had a massive feeling of guilt after doing this. After all of those years of boycotting them. I feel like such a traitor. Think of all the poor chinese children who DIED to make that sweatshirt [slight exaggeration]. Then, we looked around for some sweaters. I tried a few on and none really seemed to fit.

All of the sudden, my mother tells me that the store is closing. In a rush, I try on one more sweater, say it fits, and we pay for it. Not until we’re walking out of the store do we realize that we just paid $70 for a plain solid green sweater. (“AAAAAAGGGGH!!!!!”) So we decided to return it the next day (today).

Anyway, in gym class, I still felt awkward as ever. Even with my cheaply manufactured, sweatshop made Nike sweatshirt. I guess me and gym clothes just don’t go together. I feel naked in them. Like an alligator in a cat’s pajamas….. or something. At least my mother and I bought some other clothes at the mall today when we went to return the sweater. They look really cool- even if they’re so preppy they might cross the line of extreme preppiness (I look sort of like Sherlock Holmes). I feel like a cat in my own pajamas. :)