Shopping spree

“Ugh, I’m just going to Target, get some stuff for my room.” You know there will be one in this city, there is one in every city. Sure enough your gps takes you right there, a super target even. You quickly pick out new towels, sheets, a better pillow, soap, lotions, toiletries, a razor, and your own bath oils, all sorts of stuff you figure a girl would have, just for appearances sake if nothing else. Then you wander over toward the clothes and it occurs to you that your side of the closet is suspiciously lacking. “I should probably buy a dress or something, just to have on a hanger.”

You quickly pick out a floral summer dress, a couple of skirts, leggings, tight jeans, pants, sweatpants, and tops before heading to the dressing room. The woman working there gives you a smile, but says nothing. In the long dress up day montage that follows, you discover you are basically a size small in just about everything. You find it rather funny. You don’t need to look at any other sizes really, no petites or longs, no extra wides or narrows, no other qualifiers. Just if it has an S, it’s probably fine. “How the hell am I an average small sized girl?” It’s just weird. You also discover if it has a number, your number is 4, which you also find odd, but as you see size 00 you decide women’s sizes just don’t make sense. Just to fill your closet, you end up dropping over two hundred on clothing. You also decide to simply go with what you know. Hanes. You get value packages of colorful no show socks, thongs, and the original triangle bralette. They are all cotton, so why not. You can stuff it in a drawer and it will look normal.

Finished you go back to your apartment and put it all away, stuffing all the packaging in the dumpster so it isn’t obvious that you just bought it all. Back inside a nagging feeling says while your old clothes are probably fine, you should probably throw out all your old underwear.

Do it?

Sure.

No way.