Two of my friends and I had just visited a museum and had an hour or so to kill before catching our train back home. We decided to go shopping nearby, and I was thankful for a chance to cross off items off one of my many lists. One of the stores we visited was Old Navy.
(Side note: why is it that, every Old Navy store feels like a warehouse? The store's chock full of colorful clothes and bright signs with 50s/60s-style typography, yet there's something cold and and slightly unfriendly aura to the store-- all the Old Navy's I've been to. It hasn't really deterred me from shopping there, and I'm not as fond of the clothing there as I used to be, but this was always something that bugged me.)
After loading up on an assortment of apparel we went to fitting rooms to try it all on. On a whim I had grabbed a business-casual sort of skirt, one that had a side zipper. As I zipped into the skirt I somehow managed to scratch myself in the process. I gave an internal groan, not so much because it hurt badly (it didn't) but that I was reminded of my clumsiness. I realized I had groaned audibly when, a second later, I heard "Hey, you okay in there?" from a nearby stall. "Yeah, just scratched myself, I'm okay" I responded. I decided the skirt wasn't really for me and tried on a couple cute tops. I didn't end up buying anything that day.
When we returned I went on my computer, checked my email accounts, the news...I caught myself scratching my leg a few times. It got really itchy to the point where I wanted to slip my hand past my waist band, under my sweatpants to scratch at the skin, but I didn't feel right about it, even with no one else in the room. A little later I went to use the bathroom and as I got up from the toilet I happened to look down at my legs and
WHAT. WAS THAT.
A scratch about a foot long ran along the side of my left thigh, a thick bloodred thread that started about a handwidth away from my hip bone to about two inches above my knee. It took about three blinks' time for me to comprehend what this was and how it got there. When did...? Old Navy. That demmed skirt! I rushed out to show my friends what had happened to me.
It's not a scar that gave me a lot of pain, but it is the longest one I've ever gotten and was very dramatic looking while it scabbed and healed itself. It didn't etch itself too deeply into my skin. It's hard to discern now, but it's still there, like a faded line drawn with a washable brown marker.
* * * * *
(Side note: why is it that, every Old Navy store feels like a warehouse? The store's chock full of colorful clothes and bright signs with 50s/60s-style typography, yet there's something cold and and slightly unfriendly aura to the store-- all the Old Navy's I've been to. It hasn't really deterred me from shopping there, and I'm not as fond of the clothing there as I used to be, but this was always something that bugged me.)
After loading up on an assortment of apparel we went to fitting rooms to try it all on. On a whim I had grabbed a business-casual sort of skirt, one that had a side zipper. As I zipped into the skirt I somehow managed to scratch myself in the process. I gave an internal groan, not so much because it hurt badly (it didn't) but that I was reminded of my clumsiness. I realized I had groaned audibly when, a second later, I heard "Hey, you okay in there?" from a nearby stall. "Yeah, just scratched myself, I'm okay" I responded. I decided the skirt wasn't really for me and tried on a couple cute tops. I didn't end up buying anything that day.
When we returned I went on my computer, checked my email accounts, the news...I caught myself scratching my leg a few times. It got really itchy to the point where I wanted to slip my hand past my waist band, under my sweatpants to scratch at the skin, but I didn't feel right about it, even with no one else in the room. A little later I went to use the bathroom and as I got up from the toilet I happened to look down at my legs and
WHAT. WAS THAT.
A scratch about a foot long ran along the side of my left thigh, a thick bloodred thread that started about a handwidth away from my hip bone to about two inches above my knee. It took about three blinks' time for me to comprehend what this was and how it got there. When did...? Old Navy. That demmed skirt! I rushed out to show my friends what had happened to me.
It's not a scar that gave me a lot of pain, but it is the longest one I've ever gotten and was very dramatic looking while it scabbed and healed itself. It didn't etch itself too deeply into my skin. It's hard to discern now, but it's still there, like a faded line drawn with a washable brown marker.
* * * * *
Addendum: (I'm including this addendum here even though it's to address yesterday's post; I don't want to be in violation of one of my own rules.) I feel like I came off as very mercenary in yesterday's post. That was sort of the point, but I wanted to mention that I get more out of participating in research studies than just a check in the mail. I get a kick out of it, out of feeling like I've made a small contribution toward research that can be useful for someone, some time in the future. And it can be fun!
I think that might be the feel Old Navy is going for -- with the metal pipes, concrete floor, and in the one nearest me, a pickup truck (!?)
ReplyDeleteYour story makes me think of today, when I was supposedly alone at work, and let out a HUGE sigh (boredom, exhaustion, frustration) right as someone walked around the corner. She could have said nothing, but instead said "I HEARD THAT!"
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(poker face)