I Went to Target

OK. So I went to Target to see if my little collage actually existed. One can’t actually cut and paste, or browse and clip, a life. Putting together a life usually unfortunately involves getting into the car. And getting out of the car. And carrying a wallet.

So I went to Target. Here’s the thing. Those jeans do exist. However, at Target, what they call a size 2 is what Banana Republic would call a size 6. Chanel might call it a size 8. And Target actually does not appear to carry a size 0. So although those nice Merona jeans do exist, I can’t tell you what they look like when they fit because I seem to be too small. And I promise you I am not one of those annoyingly skinny women who look artistic even when walking around in a pair of gym shorts because the angle of their thigh bone is just so perfect. I’m regular.

The experience of going into a dressing room at Target caused severe ironic shift. I have been used to to going to Target to buy, and enjoying buying, kitchen goods, bathroom products, and in the decade where I had little children, kid stuff. I was never prepared to undress in Target. However, I survived this.

And, despite the size 2 jeans that were too large for me, Merona actually had another jacket in the Target I went to, and I liked it very much. So I bought it. For $35.00. What do you think?

Then, I saw a tshirt. It cost $7.50. It’s navy. You can’t go wrong with navy in the world of High WASPness. Even irony bows down to navy.

Even at 52 no one should think they are done learning how the world might operate.