This Saturday I did one of the bravest things I have ever had to do.
For the weekend, ZT and I visited Mom at her home north of Toronto. On our way there, we stopped in Newmarket, which is where I grew up. Our destination in Newmarket was the Upper Canada Mall. That mall has changed completely since I was last there, there has been an entire new section built, and the interior has been revamped entirely. New stores, new layout, new look. In short, it is amazing!
So we had lunch at the mall (both of us had Greek dishes, mine a chicken doner, ZT a pork kebob). It was after lunch that the event occurred. The event pushed me to the limit of man’s perseverance, and I survived it and became stronger because of it.
ZT found a Victoria’s Secret store, and I strode in with her. It was one of the most distressing events of the year, with women’s underwear hanging on the walls, sitting in bins, and being paid for at every cash register. Anyone I looked at was a woman, and she had underwear or a bra in her hands, and all I could do was try to look like I visited the store regularly. I stood bravely next to ZT while she meticulously examined each item. I first looked intently at every item she was looking at, keeping my head discreetly lowered and focused on what she was looking at, but this became uncomfortable as other women crowded in to look in the same bins. I couldn’t just stare at one spot in the bin, because every minute another woman would pick up the item I was staring at, making things even more uncomfortable. So I stepped back and began looking in other directions. I looked to my right, but quickly averted my eyes lest the women in that direction think I was watching them choose their bras. Pink lace or black lace? I think this one is cute. Then I looked nonchalantly to my right, but that direction was worse, as I was staring at women waiting in line for the dressing rooms, and they were staring right back at me. So I took evasive maneuvers and began counting the number of drawer handles on the nearest decorative cabinets, first counting one-by-one, then counting by twos, then repeating until I felt I could reasonably put in another word with ZT about which pair of underwear would be best for her to buy. I first suggested it was just underwear, so grab a bunch and let’s go. This did not happen. Then I suggested the stringy ones would be uncomfortable, but this suggestion was overridden. I also suggested that Wal-Mart would be more convenient for underwear purchases, since they give you 10 in a nice plastic package all ready to go and you don’t need to choose anything except which is cheapest. This was declined with a darkening of the eyes that did not bode well for future conversation, so I continued my cabinet handle counting until 10 pairs had been found to her satisfaction, and we made our way to the cash register and then out the door.
You have no idea how free and unburdened I was upon exiting that store. My mind was clear, I could breath deeper, the air was fresher, and I could stride forth without fear, knowing I had lived through hell and was stronger for it.
Picture: Smile!
Chris
For the weekend, ZT and I visited Mom at her home north of Toronto. On our way there, we stopped in Newmarket, which is where I grew up. Our destination in Newmarket was the Upper Canada Mall. That mall has changed completely since I was last there, there has been an entire new section built, and the interior has been revamped entirely. New stores, new layout, new look. In short, it is amazing!
So we had lunch at the mall (both of us had Greek dishes, mine a chicken doner, ZT a pork kebob). It was after lunch that the event occurred. The event pushed me to the limit of man’s perseverance, and I survived it and became stronger because of it.
ZT found a Victoria’s Secret store, and I strode in with her. It was one of the most distressing events of the year, with women’s underwear hanging on the walls, sitting in bins, and being paid for at every cash register. Anyone I looked at was a woman, and she had underwear or a bra in her hands, and all I could do was try to look like I visited the store regularly. I stood bravely next to ZT while she meticulously examined each item. I first looked intently at every item she was looking at, keeping my head discreetly lowered and focused on what she was looking at, but this became uncomfortable as other women crowded in to look in the same bins. I couldn’t just stare at one spot in the bin, because every minute another woman would pick up the item I was staring at, making things even more uncomfortable. So I stepped back and began looking in other directions. I looked to my right, but quickly averted my eyes lest the women in that direction think I was watching them choose their bras. Pink lace or black lace? I think this one is cute. Then I looked nonchalantly to my right, but that direction was worse, as I was staring at women waiting in line for the dressing rooms, and they were staring right back at me. So I took evasive maneuvers and began counting the number of drawer handles on the nearest decorative cabinets, first counting one-by-one, then counting by twos, then repeating until I felt I could reasonably put in another word with ZT about which pair of underwear would be best for her to buy. I first suggested it was just underwear, so grab a bunch and let’s go. This did not happen. Then I suggested the stringy ones would be uncomfortable, but this suggestion was overridden. I also suggested that Wal-Mart would be more convenient for underwear purchases, since they give you 10 in a nice plastic package all ready to go and you don’t need to choose anything except which is cheapest. This was declined with a darkening of the eyes that did not bode well for future conversation, so I continued my cabinet handle counting until 10 pairs had been found to her satisfaction, and we made our way to the cash register and then out the door.
You have no idea how free and unburdened I was upon exiting that store. My mind was clear, I could breath deeper, the air was fresher, and I could stride forth without fear, knowing I had lived through hell and was stronger for it.
Picture: Smile!
Chris
