One of the great things about being back in the city? Great Big Goodwill Stores! Like most people, I started shopping at Goodwill long before Macklemore told us it was fucking awesome.
As I said here, my middle daughter is a Giantesse, who grows with the ferocity of kudzu vines. Keeping her clothed is the bane of my existence. It’s quite costly to clothe a child who grows so quickly. It’s hard enough to find age-appropriate clothes to fit a child with the body of a woman, but Sassy makes it even more challenging with what she refers to as her “style.” Her “style” is impossible to describe, because in order to have one understand her “style,” she would need to clearly define those parameters. Which she cannot.
No pink. Unless maybe it’s neon and there’s a giraffe in sunglasses. Or if it’s plaid. Or if it’s bejeweled. Or Hello Kitty.
No flowers. Unless they’re flowers she likes. (none?) Or the flowers are next to Hello Kitty.
No butterflies or hearts. Unless they’re next to elephants. Or, of course, Hello Kitty.
Green is awesome. Unless it’s got dolman sleeves, in which case, it is clearly for old ladies.
Lace is awful. Unless it’s black, or white, or green, or blue, but it definitely cannot be pink, except when it’s with giraffes, elephants, guitars, or Hello Kitty.
Black is her favorite. But not with pink elephants on it. And, “Mama! No! Don’t you see the hearts?”
“But you like the turquoise shirt, with the pink hearts and elephants on it..that one even has flowers…”
Studded, blingy, sparkly things are awesome. Unless they have too much sparkle, or the studs are colored, but if the studs are pink, that’s okay, on a black flowery shirt, because it’s cool.
Stripes are splendid, except if you buy her a two-tone blue striped shirt, because blue is actually her favorite color.
She loves dresses. Not any actual dresses, except that ONE you found that looks like Drew’s shirt, only in dress form, which you hope to God she really did like, and wasn’t just complimenting Auntie Drew out of some poorly-learned politesse… She wishes she had more dresses, so you walk through every store asking, “This one?” *points* “How about that one?” You give up when she tells you she doesn’t care about Audrey Hepburn and the simplicity of a little black dress. You are further upset when she claims your little black dress, puts on your black slingbacks and lets Mamaw tie on a colorful scarf at the neck…You think: Shit, if she put on my sunglasses, she could be Audrey Hepburn for cryin out loud!
You see a hundred women in one weekend, and you ask her, “Do you like Beauty Queen’s dress?” No. “Do you like Noni’s dress?” No. “Do you like Kaitlynn’s dress?” No.
You hope she will grow up to design these still non-existent types of dresses that live only in her head.
And that’s why you take Sassy the Giantesse shopping at Goodwill on the weekend. You are teaching her to be thrifty while allowing her to explore and develop her “style.” Also known as Hunt for your own clothes, you big, bearish brat!
*achem* Anyway, they also sell a lot of cheap books at Goodwill.
So while we were in the Goodwill yesterday, they had the greatest disco music goin on, and I was sayin to Sassy how they should keep the Goodwill open at night for the singing.
A particular song came on, wherein I was forced to move from singing to dancing.
We frequently dance in not-dancing public places. We’re fun/silly/odd like that.
If you can listen to this song and not move your body..well, I just don’t have that kind of self-control!
The man on the next aisle nudged his wife and pointed to me. “She can’t help but shimmy,” he told her. He and his wife smiled, and before long, The Mister was groovin, Moo was performing some sorta Cosby-esque contortion, while I spun Sassy about. Even the cashier got in on it!
After that, we went to the bookstore, where Sassy found a pile of giant Emperor Penguin plushies, and of course, she just had to have one. “Mr. Happy Flapper,” she said.
The Mister was delighted at the sale price of Mr. Happy Flapper, which perhaps inspired him to waddle penguin-like to the check-out, and then to waddle penguin-like to the car. He made a delightful Emperor Penguin. He did it so well, I wondered if he had practiced penguin waddling before…
We took Mr. Happy Flapper to Starbucks, where he was disappointed to find that they were out of fish frappuccinos. Personally, I’m just glad he isn’t growing.