There's a Sucker in Every Shoe Size

Lilly was insistant on a pink bridesmaids dress -- this you already knew -- so now I have to buy pink shoes.  Shoes I'll never wear again. Well, maybe I'll wear them again as an accent color.  But I'll never wear the dress again for sure.  Too, yew, ugly.

I went to PaySome Shoe Source to pick out a pair of white shoes that they'll dye the appropriate color.  There were a handful of styles.  Lilly said to pick out which ever kind I liked best so I did.  It has little flowers that go across the foot.

The sales woman asked me my size.  I told her 6.  I have worn a size six since I was 14.  Well, I tried them on and they felt tight.

"When's the last time you bought shoes," she asked.

 "About a year ago."

"Hum, I think we need to measure your foot."

My foot?  I thought they only did that with kids.  So, okay, I nodded and she brought the device over and measured.

"You're a six and a half."

"My foot grew?"

"Yes," she said.  "That can happen due to pregnancy, weight gain and age."

"Age?"

"Yes, age.  Are these the shoes you want?  We have them in your size."

I nodded.  Yes, my size.  Just what I always wanted:  Pink shoes and a growing, aging foot.

I placed my order and left the store feeling, well, different and not in a good way.  Who wants a larger foot?  Really, what's going to get larger next?  My butt?  My stomach?  My thighs?  Certainly not my ego.

Moon Over Hickville

I've said before that I live in small town.  Too small sometimes.  We're large enough that everyone doesn't know everyone else but small enough that we're all related if you go back far enough.

There is a social club here.  There is no membership; you just have to live within village limits.  I haven't been there in years so, for whatever reason, tonight I decided to go. 

What a mistake.  There was no one there whom I would be interested in.  They were either teenagers, old retirees or freaks and geeks.  (Freaks and Geeks, remember that TV show?)

One of the geeks is Hal.  He likes going around telling everyone he was named after the computer in 2001: A Space Odessey.  And he has the movie memorized, too.  Every single line of it.  It's a scary thing to see.

As I ordered myself a hotdog and a bag of chips I could feel Hal watching me.  I sat down at a table and Hal sat across from me, uninvited, and grabbed one of my chips.

"Hello, Fran.  How's it shaking?"

"It's, uh, shaking just fine, Hal.  What about you?"

"I was thinking of going to a Star Wars convention dressed as Han Solo.  Want to come and be my princess Leila?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.  Really a geek sci-fi convention?  I just walked through the door.

"I bet you'd look real cute with your hair up in buns."

"OK, sure, Hal."

"No."

He reached forward and try to touch my hand.  I pulled back.  I only intended to pull back my hand but in reality I stood and then yelled at him, "No, Hal, I don't want to go with you.  I don't want to be your geeky princess.  And I certainly don't want you to regale me with stories of how you're named after some damn fictional, psycho computer."

The entire room was staring at me. I struggled my shoulders and shook my head.

Hal look mortified.  I grabbed my hotdog and left.

I'm never going there again.

When I Grow Up

Since Working Women Wednesday a few a weeks ago I have been thinking about my future.  I mean what future do I currently have?  My job with SAT TV is unbearable.  It's getting to the point where I don't want to go in anymore.  This is affecting my work performance.

So once again I am back to the idea of going back to school, but who wants to be the oldest student there?  It's embaressing. 

But really I have no idea what I want to do with my life and I should by now.  I should know.

I found myself again looking over the college website and dreaming.  Dreaming of what, I'm not sure.  Everything seems like it would take too long or cost too much or not be the perfect fit for me.  But what would be the perfect fit for me?

At one point I found myself looking at the graphic design page and daydreaming of Bill who works in the office building.  If I learned graphic design, in theory, I would be qualified to work for the same company he does.  It was a wonderful fantasy that I almost -- almost -- clicked on the "get more information" link.  I'm just not there yet.

The End is Near

I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror.  I looked haggard and tired.  I felt haggard and tired.

At breakfast I happened to look at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall.  I caught sight of the date.  My birthday is exactly one month away.  That's it.  One month.  In one month I'll be 30.

How could I be almost 30?  I should be much further along in my life than this.  I should have a stable relationship, maybe have children.  I should live in a better house, drive a better car.  I should be in a career I enjoy.  I should know what I want to do with my life.

How can I turn 30?  I haven't even gotten out of my quarter life crisis yet.

Pretty in Pink

As you recall, I promised Lilly I would go dress shopping with her.  It is only because I love her like a sister that I will do this.

We went to Amy's Bridal, which was having a special sale, and it was jammed packed with crazy brides-to-be looking for a great deal.

It took a while before we were waited on.  Had I known this I wouldn't have had to take off of work early.  Our consultant was named Rita.  Rita showed us around the store. 

Lilly had to pick her dress out first  -- and it took forever.  So she had to try on, like, a million dresses, asking maddening questions all the while about how her boobs look and her butt looks, straps or strapless, train or no train, it's too expensive, not expensive enough.  Finally, she picked something to my relief.

Then we went to the bridesmaids section and Lilly picks a dress right away.  She only had me try on three, like they do on the bride's shows on TV, and, boom, she made a decision.  And it's pink.  Ugh.  I'm going to look like a blown-up piece of bubble gum in front of all those people.  How could she?  She must really be afraid her bridesmaids will outshine her.

From Here to the 19th Floor

This morning I went into work early to make up for some time I'm talking off later in the month to help Lilly go dress shopping.  This, believe me, is not how I would want to spend my day but I do it because, in the long term, it will make my friend happy. 

As I walked to the elevator I was thinking about Lilly and how I hope she doesn't pick pink for the bridesmaids dress.  I hate pink.  It's the same color as the flush in our cheeks or a baby's butt.  Who would want to wear pink?  I wasn't paying any attention to the guy who walked into the elevator with me.

"Hey, aren't you lunch bag lady?" he said.

"Excuse me."

I looked up and there was Bill, the guy I had meet in the cafeteria who works in the company above mine.  He seemed more handsome than the first time I saw him.

"Remember, we met in the cafeteria?  We both brought a bag lunch."  He held up his lunch bag.  "See I brought mine."

"Oh."  My arms were full with my coat, my purse, my umbrella and my lunch bag.  "Mine's here somewhere."

"Hum, what floor are you getting off on?"

"The, uh, nineteenth."

"Oh, that's right."  He laughed.  "You work below me."

"That's right."

"What's your name again."

"Fran."

"Oh, that's right."

We rode the rest of the elevator ride in silence.  I couldn't get to the 19th floor fast enough.

Working Women Wednesday

I try to associate with my co-workers as little as possible.  They remind me too much of work for any friendship to really be enjoyable.  But sometimes you turn down an invitation enough times you owe them one.

I went out tonight with a bunch of the SAT TV ladies for Working Women's Wednesday at a bar down the street from our office building.

Something happened while we were there, enjoying a drink and a light dinner.  The women began to talk about themselves.  But it wasn't just talking about themselves.  They were talking about their backgrounds and what brought them to SAT TV. 

All of them had stories that were oddly familiar.  They needed a job, they were deep in debt so they found what they could yet they were still deeply in debt and still dissatisfied.  What was worse was none of them had a college degree.  These women reminded me of me.  I had goosebumps listening to their stories.

They are all middle age and with my birthday coming up I am fearful of becoming like them.  I don't want to become like them  --  bitter and stuck.  I want to have a job I like and a little money in the bank.  I want to be happy, ya know?

Maybe I need to revisit that college site after all.