Thrifty and Awkward

I have never been to a thrift store. THERE. I said it. There is no reason why. I just never have. 

I am starting to get more on board with my body. I am just coming to the realization that I am going to look like I do now. Do I love the idea? Nope. Do I plan on continuing to try to do something about it? Yep. Am I going to continually fail at doing those things? Probably. I am OK with this.

With the being OK, I am trying to start finding clothes that flatter my body, rather than hide it. In the grand scheme of things, I am not fat. I'm chubby. And this realization has made me a lot more tolerant of myself. To stop thinking of myself as fat is a huge step for me.

Anyway, so thrift store. I don't have a style. Unless black top, denim bottom, flip flops/ tennis shoes is a style. Because, well, it's not. So, I am trying to find a style that is me. Walking into Old Navy or Target and just grabbing random clothes does not a style make. That is letting someone else determine my style. I don't like that.

I kick started this off last weekend by getting a haircut that I very much like and is very much what I have always wanted but never had the balls to get. It is angled to the front with crazy short layers and super me. I love it.

I AM DIGRESSING. 

So, I went to the thrift store. I had ZERO idea what to expect. I pictured a bunch of hipsters in ironic hats discussing the latest band who hums their entire set. Instead I found a bunch of down trodden people with horrendous taste in clothes. 

So, I am looking through the racks. I didn't even allow myself to look at anything black. I look up and there is this is cute red head with super cute hair across the rack from me. And I am like, yes! This is what I need. I need to get my ques from her, figure out how to work this thrift store thing, because all of the mickey mouse shirts are not really what I am going for. 

I start to both look through the racks and watch her. (I would like to point out that I am about as subtle as a clown on meth.) We end up on the same row and I purposefully move closer to her, careful not to make eye contact or attract any kind of attention. This girl is my in! She is going to unknowingly show me the way. I decide to chance a glance and HOLY SHIT, Y'ALL. I was wrong. I was so wrong.

This woman is wearing these jeans.

With suspenders hanging down in the back. They were dingy on a good day. She topped this look off with a very plaid, very polyester shirt. It was shiny. My interest went from finding someone to unknowingly show me the ropes to HOLY SHIT LET'S WATCH THIS TRAIN WRECK UNFOLD. 

Unfold it did. Her boyfriend, Warren, was also there, unbeknownst to me. She is yelling, "Warren!", and holding up things that I was audibly laughing at earlier. A shirt with shoes all over it. A white dress shirt that had a built in tie. A plaid shirt that quite literally impaired my vision permanently. 

Then. Oh, there is a then, she started putting layer after layer of clothes on. And twirling in the aisles while wearing them. By the time I left, she looked like one of those airline commercials where they don't want to check their bags and instead put all of their clothes on. Except it was ALL polyester and all hideous. 

I actually overheard her say, "This is so ugly nobody will ever buy it. I must have it."

He was wearing a shirt that just said "pussy."

Afterwards, I met some friends for a drink and they told me that was absolutely not the thrift store to go to and then directed me to a different thrift store that has awesome clothes and a way better hipster: possibly homeless ratio.

Word. I am so going to make this happen, no matter how many awkward red heads I have to accidentally emulate.