So there was I, at this brilliant store just off the Mega Mall inroad near Oshiwara, called Cool Clothing Company. And cool it was. Anyone wanting your daily dose of Zara’s and Nexts and such like at rock bottom (and I mean rock bottom) prices, get your butts there right now or regret.
I picked up some lovely Nautica shirts from the brat, some Next tshirts also for the brat, and some trousers of indeterminate brand, and deciding I had spare cash left over, decided to splurge on self like any self respecting shopaholic would. Bags, beautifully shiny, sober, funky, hung like the temptations of Satan, on hooks right in front of a beguiling mirror. One a Promod original in pure brown leather for Rs 2000. But I desisted, I thought, (yes, go on, laugh all you like) that I already had too many bags and what would I do with one more. Am still slapping my forehead in regret. Slapping is a polite term. Blood is being drawn.
Anyway, to come back to the moment, I am at this great store, I find a couple of tshirts, that the kind salesgirls who are all a minus one size tell me they have in XL, and wait they will dig them out from the bottom of the stash, since they dont normally get such huge customers (now that was the implied unstated statement one derived from their hunt for the XL sizes). So while they dig around, I leaf around and find a beautiful pista green and white polkadotted top, with a belted waist and a broad collar. I pick it up, I love it, I hold it against me, I look at the tag, it says H&M, I see the price, I love it more. I run screaming to the cashier to pay for it and take it home.
I keep it safe in the cupboard with stash I keep concealed until I take them out one at a time, to prevent volcanic eruptions on part of husband who really cannot understand why I need two thousand tops and one million shoes, not to mention the bags. These men, I tell you, they dont have a clue. I’m sure you girls understand.
So I took it out yesterday. To wear it, and slipped into it, it felt great and fitted beautifully. I revelled in it. The feeling of wearing something new and fabulous always does great things to self and ego, and one floats around feeling like the bees unvaricosed knees.
The day went great.
And then I took it off when I reached home and some wicked fluke of fate made me look at the label again. You know, the look when you sort of double check something because you cant believe how lucky you are to have found something in your size at first glance. I speak from bitter experience now, dont ever do that. Delight in your find.
H&M maternity. That is what I saw on the label. You could have pricked me with a pin, only I wouldnt deflate as easily as implied balloon.
Yes, I really need to get my eyes checked. And learn that I need to exercise restraint while picking up clothes on impulse, apart from the other exercising that I need to step up on.
Maternity??? Am sobbing my eyes out.