The same. Only different.

There's this big gala celebration that Arrow is hosting on Wednesday. In downtown Vancouver at a fancy hotel.
Dress code is business-formal. Whatever that means.

I had a feeling I couldn't wear my flowered flowing skirt and flip flops.

So I gave myself 7 minutes to find an outfit on Sunday afternoon. Drew and I were on our way home from dropping my dad off at the hospital to be with my mom. (She'll be fine. Just hurt herself when she fell. My dad had removed the step from the kitchen to the family room and she didn't notice. "It's been there for 30 years, I just assumed it'd always be there.")

We ran, literally, into the Bay and sprinting past all the glittery holiday wear, went straight to the Hefty gal department in the back corner.
Not one shiny sparkly outfit in site.
In fact, there were no new clothes in my department at all. The 3 black summer skirts I bought for the weddings I attended in the spring and summer were still on the racks. 40 % off, mind you...
And the department had shrunk. It's now sharing space with maternity wear. No bedazzled, sequinced maternity party dresses either. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With 4 minutes left til closing, I walked back through acres of normal sized velvety and silky outfits and lamented. If I was just one size smaller, my options would be quardrupled at least.

"God, please. Just one dress, that's all I nee..."
And then there it was. A single rack. With 7 dresses on it. The neon flashing sign said "For fat people only. These dresses are for those who are oversized, plus-sized, above-average-sized or pregnant. 40% off."
There was one long black sleeveless beaded number that was my size. I bought it.

Tonight, at 8:56 pm, I walked into the Shoe Warehouse and asked if they had a fancy schmancy shoe that didn't have a pointy toe or stilhetto heal. They had a sparkly silver pair that was in my size.
I owned them 75 seconds later.


On the other end of the scale is Clint.
He is joining me for the big event and needed dress up clothes too.
After hanging out in the Bay's changing room for an hour trying on black pants that cannot droop to his bum, we decided he was a 30 waist. Not one of the jackets fit him. And the shirts were all puffy on his small frame.
A new plan of attack was called for so we agreed to venture from the safety of the department store to the mall.
We entered each men's store together. I would go to the sales cleark and say, "My son needs to look nice on Wednesday. Do you have any clothes that would fit him?"
In most clases he was too slight. No one stocked suits in size 36.

But, in Le Chateau we hit a bullseye.
Ten minutes later, we walked out with a jacket, pants and shirt.

And while I was buying my shiny shoes, he was trying on the only size 11 black leather shoes they had in stock.

The bonus of being larger or smaller than average is that shopping is easy. You usually only have one option.
Kinda like buying a car from Mr. Ford back in the 30's..."You can order your car in any colour you like as long as it's black."

So, my son and are are the same. Except very different.



Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Only pantyhose left to buy. Should be able to pick those up at Safeway when I get milk.
2. It's snowing. Beautiful fluffy flakes. Love watching them float to the ground by the light of the street lamps.
3. November is 48 hours away from being over. This has been the most intense month this year. Well, June was pretty stupid too. But crumb, I need this month to end.


Take care,