henley shirts, it seems in my world, are today's new wife beater tank top and the hoodie of tomorrow. my clothing phases evolve slowly and all bear a passing resemblence to the previous clothing phase. i've recently been buying large children's clothing for three dollars-ish less than the adult version.
this isn't some sort of "ouch, i just stabbed myself with my own jutting hip bone, get that wurther original candy away from me i'm full" confession. no. i'm still built like a retired male soccer player. fortunately, the people whose clothes come from the children's department -- ie children -- are also occasionally shaped like retired adult male soccer players.
in the end, i just walked away from the shirt.
"i feel like i can't tell anyone i shop in target's children's department," i tell chuck. "it makes me sound like 'look at me! look at me! i'm elfin! i'd have to have an appendectomy to lose another pound without dying!' but really, the clothes are just big."
"so what? the recent epidemic of childhood obesity has worked in your favor," he shrugs.
i need replacement blades for my vintage soap caked razor, a brand i've been almost monogamous with since the day i finally realized that my shin bones would never become weathered and calloused enough to actually enjoy using an epilady. [the epilady, for you tots, was an electric razor with a wire coil head that would spin and become entangled in your leg hair, then rip each individual strand out one by one while you wept alone in your bathroom, one throbbing and bumpy red leg propped on the toilet seat. a song by a band called "mr. big" playing in the background. it billed itself as being a way to only have to shave like every six weeks. for the pain it delivered, you could have more easily stuck your leg in a bonfire and singed the hair off.]
apparently my brand has been discontinued, so i'm forced to find a new razor with which to form an unhealthy product-loyalty relationship. i grab a thing called intuition, sensing it will be my rebound razor, and tell chuck that one of the after shave lotions smells like tooth paste.
this product takes me aback:
this is a variety of condiments for your iams pet food: sizzlin' bacon flavor, country style chicken flavor, pot roast flavor, roasted turkey flavor. hell, maybe there is even a chipotle flavor.
i like the idea of cradling toonses in my arms and pouring this directly into his little gaping face hole while he coos in delight.
chuck reads off the ingredients, which would sound decent if they described something on the menu at applebees. he's convinced people can eat this.
"let's have a taste test," he says. he seems serious.
i buy two dollar shower gel, two dollar lotion and two dollar body spray forgetting that when applied out of the store, two dollar anything just smells like burning plastic. and now, so will i.
the best thing about this new razor is that it feels like a toy. something your mom would give you so you could pretend you were shaving. it has a special end that foams when wet, meaning no shower gel. it feels like applying deoderant to your leg.
but it works. and it's pretty awesome. and i almost got through the whole experience without carving a bloody divot into my knee. almost.