Not Mad As Hell
But definitely peeved as all get out.
Does anyone even used the term “all get out” anymore? If not, then THAT peeves me too.
I have had a very peevish week.
It started last Saturday. I ran into Target to buy the Easter equivalent of stocking-stuffers for the little ones in my family. I knew they were already getting enough candy. I took pity on the Moms and Dads and didn’t add to the sugar-high. But I couldn’t have nothing either. So I had a cart full of cheap toys. And in aisle 3, I met up with my Zumba teacher. And she said,
“Buying gifts for the grandchildren?”
Now the fact that I am old enough to be a grandmother (my sister has four) is beside the point. I decided last year that I would be 46 instead of 62. Doesn’t Zumba-girl notice how I waggle my butt to Shakira? That I have cool pants and blond hair? That I wear my eye-makeup and lipgloss to class? That I check my cell-phone before we start? That I haven’t fainted since week 2? How could she assume that I am a grandmother? Geez.
And that was only Zumba-annoyance number one.
At the gym this week, we Zumbaists were informed that the Saturday morning class was being replaced. The biggest determinant of whether you will stick with your exercise program is how much you like it. I have been practicing Yoga for eleven years, and I appreciate it a lot. But when I found Zumba, I knew I found the love of my life. I may feel serenity and accomplishment in Yoga; but I rarely smile in class. (well, maybe when someone farts in downward dog). But in Zumba, every time I watch myself in the mirror (which is constantly, of course), I am smiling. Big, goofy smiling.
And so what are they replacing my Saturday morning class with?
What are the odds that boot camp will make me smile?
So I am even more annoyed.
There’s only one cure for that.
I decided to treat myself to a present from one of the pricey-pricey stores in the center of town. I live in Litchfield, Connecticut, which is a bit of a tourist destination. With a quaint Norman Rockwell green lined with artsy little shops whose duty it is to
soak serve the tourists. And there are some choice choices. So I went into the best store in town. And the jeans were on sale! “50% off”, according to the sign! Oh boy! I was going to get some designer jeans with designer holes in the knees! There was a pair in my size – faded to almost white! I was so excited! (see all the exclamation points???!!!!!) And I checked the tag. Regular retail price: $565.00.
I drove to TJ Maxx. I tried on new fitness clothes. After all, I still have one smile-making Zumba class and my less-thrilling but nice Yoga. I found some great capri fitness pants with a little gather at the shin. Cute cute. And there was an adorable top to match. And it was sexy and TIGHT.
I am NOT a Grandma.
And then I couldn’t get it off. My shoulders were stuck. I almost had to walk out with the damn thing around my head and my boobs peeking out, and beg the number-ticket-lady to help me out of my sexy clothes.
Maybe I should go back and buy some jeans. I could borrow against my 401K.