I didn’t end up buying a new lounge. I couldn’t be bothered waiting the sixteen weeks to get it and I realised there were a lot of things I’d rather spend my money on. Which is why I’m going shopping this morning to buy some new jeans (to replace the white ones that became mysteriously smaller about the waist).
Shopping for pants is an experience for me that always carries a high risk of failure; I’m some sort of weird body shape that pants makers haven’t developed a pattern for as yet. Slim hipped but sway backed, pot bellied and short legged. Please don’t try to picture that in your mind – it doesn’t look as awful as it sounds but it just makes it hard to find pants that fit. I saw a sewing class once advertised in a shop window called – Pants that Fit! and I was tempted to attend and probably would have if my sewing skills were slightly more advanced than zero.
I also like my pants to be comfortable and basically for me that means I like the waistband to be higher than my bum crack. I like to know I can bend and squat without showing my bum. I’ve reached a difficult clothes buying age it seems; I’m not ready to shop in the more mature lady shops but I’m well past the age of shopping in Supre or any other place where I feel inclined to tell the sales assistant that their music is too loud.
Which is why I should probably stick to buying chairs. I decided to buy a beautiful yellow chair. I like chairs because no one else can sit with you or lean all over you or try and put their feet on you. I also liked this one because it was in stock and I could have it straight away. I also like that it sits under the window and catches the sun all day. I have also (amazingly) taught Chicken Little that she can’t get in it. – although I bet when no one is home she hops straight in.