The things you think when alone in a thrift store change-room.

They're generally a lot more interesting than the things you think when you're on a 100kmph highway in the middle of a blizzard. Those are generally limited to things like "Holy hell, I'm going to die and I've never seen France!" and "Why did I decide a stereo was a better investment than snow tires?"

Thankfully, I didn't have those thoughts today. Despite dire warnings, driving to Barrie today was uneventful, thankfully.

As of today, I'm almost divorced. Most people respond to that with 'Oh, I'm so sorry'.

I'm not.

Oh, once upon a time I was, granted. It's always sad when a marriage ends. But I've gotten over all that ages ago. Now it's just a relief. You see, I hate paperwork. Hate it. And bureacracy. I even hate spelling bureacracy. The squiggly red spellcheck lines are mocking me as I type this. The whole time I've been gathering these forms and filing these papers the only thing I could think was "Why can't I live in a society where I could jump backwards over a broom, or shout 'I divorce you' three times and be done with it?"

Even this morning, I could barely sleep as I feared I had forgotten some crucial element that would stall the proceedings further. Keep in mind, I've been separated for seven years. The woman at the Barrie court house was exceedingly helpful and patient with my ongoing confusion as to what needed to be where. Even offered a wet-wipe when the pen leaked on my hand. When I got everything signed I paused in disbelief.

"So there's really, absolute NOTHING else I need to do? For serious?"

Sweet sweet relief.

***********************************************************************

I have a wedding coming up in march that I'm attending. This necessitates the need for something pretty to wear. I go through a lot of clothes lately with the weight loss. I do have a dress I could have worn, but there's nothing like a good excuse to buy one.

I can almost say without a doubt that, bridesmaid dresses notwithstanding, I have probably never paid more than 25 bucks on clothes for formal occasions. I'd almost dare to say $20, but I think my dress for my grade 12 semi was $22.

I have a weakness for thrift stores, especially value Village, because it's so huge, that I can spend hours in there. There is an art to thrift store shopping in such a large venue, however.]

• Leave yourself time. Like, 2-4 hours.
• Go to your size range. Grab whatever looks even remotely interesting. Put it in the cart.
• TRY EVERYTHING ON. EVERYTHING.
• When trying things on, if you don't immediately go 'My god, it's beautiful', let it go. This prevents a lot of regrets down the road and helps reduce the chance of a coronary at the till.
• In change rooms with a 'three things at a time' policy, try the smallest of your three things first, moving to the largest. There is nothing worse than having to change back into your street wear to go get more things because you weren't able to do up that last pair of pants.
• Unless you are a avid and talented seamstress, eliminate "Well, maybe I can hem/let out/take in this piece" from your vocabulary. You won't.
• Unless you are actively participating in a weight management program that has shown some actual results, eliminate "Well maybe if I lose five pounds" from your vocabulary. You won't.
• Bring a friend, when possible. A close friend, with decent taste, who appreciates the thrift store aesthetic. A close, honest friend who, when you look at them with shimmering hope in your eyes, will not be afraid to say "No, not a chance. Take that off and let's never speak of it again." Do not take a significant other. You may, with caution, take your mom. Take close note of your mother's fashion sense before you cross that bridge.

I find, while wandering the aisles and standing alone, half-naked and vulnerable in the change rooms that some odd, random thoughts cross my mind

Skinny jeans have been sent here by Satan himself.

I am jealous of women who are able to buy knee high boots. When I am rich, I will have a half dozen pairs custom made for my wonky-assed legs.

Occasionally I see something I think is incredibly cute, like a shirt with a lot of pink and skulls on it and go 'Oooo so cute'. And then I pause and think "Oh right. I'm almost thirty."

And then I put it back.


Not too shabby for 10 bucks eh?