When A Lady Asks If You Like Her Outfit, Lie!

And lie like a rug!

Folks, one day my brain may evolve beyond a nerve ending, but for now it is what it is. Here’s another glorious example for y’alls consideration.

This past week I was driving home from work, and my path home takes me right by the new mall/shopping center that’s just opened up here in north Macon. It’s basically a lot of little strip shopping centers all woven into one big complex, as that appears to be the latest mall design preference/style of note.

I always hate shopping in any form or fashion, and that’s something we may take up in another article sometimes. For now, though, I found myself in a situation where I had to do some shopping. A buddy had turned me onto the fact that one of the stores in this mall had a great looking Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets logo lamp for sale at a great price. And, since I drive by this mall and the store in question each and every day, I figured I’d pop in there quickly, score the lamp, and then go home. I even figured that since I wouldn’t be in there very long that it might not even be considered a shopping trip. Technically. Or so I hoped.

I stopped off there right after I got off work this past Wednesday. Even found the section of the mall that had my particular store in it rather quickly to boot. When I got out and walked into the main entrance, though, I found that in order to get to my store that I had to wind my way through another one. And here’s where I ran into a slight problem, and hence the subject of today’s epistle.

As fate has it in these types of situations, I had to work my way through a women’s clothing store, or apparel boutique, as they called it. Just area after area of lady’s fashions, and one of those places where if you bump a rack you’ll knock over about ten thousand dollars worth of dresses. I hate stores like this, as I’m afraid I’ll end up getting spotted by a buddy over in the lingerie or Kotex sections or whatever. I cringe thinking of the inherent possibilities, “Ed, hey buddy, what in the hell are you doin’ examining those personal hygiene items? You’re not one of those freaky type dudes, are ya?” or “Ed, I always thought you were a douche bag, now I know!” Guys say that kinda crap, you know. Worse off, they mean it.

I avoided those possibilities, but after walking around a bit and turning a corner I ran into something maybe even worse. I came right up on a fitting area where a lady was trying on dresses. A really healthy lady too, I think she must’ve topped out at over three hundred pounds. She had on a mega yellow colored dress, one so bright that it almost hurt my eyes just to look at it. A store attendant was with her, and she was cooing and murmuring about how lovely she looked. And right as she was telling her all those lies, I stroll around the corner and walked right into the two of them. And just as sure as I’m an Elvis fan, the lady trying to sell the dress to the large yellow clad one said,

“Sir, doesn’t she look stunning in this colorful distinctive?”

Y’all know me, my mouth engages before my brain, so I answer,

“Whut?”

“Sir, doesn’t this lady look stunning in this summer attention-getter?”

“Mam, I have to say, it’s really bright.”

I don’t know what was offensive about this, about all I can figure is that I didn’t brag on her enough or something, but I could tell by the look on her face that she was fastly developing a case of the red ass. Anyway, this very noticeable caution light then says to me,

“You obviously don’t know what you’re seeing here. This is current high fashion, something you undoubtedly don’t understand.”

Now, I’m as fashion clueless as the next guy, but I also know when I’ve been dissed out in public, so I blurted out the following before I should have thought better of it,

“Mam, I’ll tell you what I understand. I understand that if you were dressed in blue that you’d resemble the ocean, or if you were dressed in brown or green that you’d be doubling for a Sequoia. As it is, you’re resembling a Godzillian-level Tweety Bird, so are you happy now?”

She wasn’t at all, then proceeded to tell me that I had no clue as to fashion and was rude to boot. I agreed with her on both scores, and then told her my eyes were hurting. Soon thereafter I left, and quickly got on over to my store, scored the Georgia Tech lamp, and then worked my way back out towards the parking lot. Which also meant I had to go back through that same store where I’d just had the run-in with the world’s largest lemon. Anyway, as I picked my way back through, the sales lady who had been telling that mega banana all those lies spots me and says,

“Do you realize that you just cost me a big sale?”

I respondeth,

“Mam, I’m sorry, but you know as well as I do that she looked like the South American continent encased in a yellow wrapper.”

She actually smiled at that, and said,

“Honey, I know. She’s crabby as hell, but she does spend a lot of money here. Now, I want to give you something.” With that, she hands me a mall gift card worth $50 and says, “This is yours if you look the other way next time you pass through my department. Deal?”

I replied, “Deal,” and took it without a moment’s hesitation. Hey, fifty bucks is fifty bucks, staying quiet in a ladies’ clothing store should be easy as I never intend to go there again anyway, and I’ll always remember to lie to a lady whenever she asks how she looks in a certain outfit – they’ll all be stylishly dressed Miss Americas, no two ways about it!