Ah, shopping. I hate shopping. Let me clarify–I love shopping for gifts and I hate shopping for myself. I live on the Kings Road in Chelsea. Chelsea is a very posh neighborhood–very posh. You even have to say it in a posh accent. The Kings Road in Chelsea.
Anyway, I am going to Belfast this weekend. For the trip, my goal was to get some new clothes. Actually, all I need are new tops–I have pants, but since I started losing weight I’ve only bought a couple shirts. Now, all I have are very nice shirts that fit me like a sacks. This is great–it means that WeightWatchers is working its magic on me. It is not great for me looking my best this weekend in Belfast.
So, I thought, I’ll just run up to Marks and Spencer and get something. I tried on four tops last night in various sizes. While all of them technically fit–they all looked very bad. So then this afternoon, I ran up to Peter Jones. I even sucked it up and asked for help from a saleswoman. I found exactly one top that was cute and trendy–but on sale it was still nearly $90. So I didn’t even bother trying it on. So, now I have one day left to search for my new tops before Belfast. I am getting close to stressed out.
If anyone reading this lives in London–where can I go shopping (I wear a UK 18/20).
Okay, I’m off to Leicester Square.
UPDATE
Maureen and I went to the Marks and Spencer at Covent Garden. In about 45 minutes, or less, I walked out with L43 ($80) worth of cute new clothes. Two black tops, a sexy black dress, pajama pants, and two pajama tanks. Maureen was in charge of pulling everything in my size from the sale racks and I was in charge of modeling and buying. The dress was the best buy–originally L49 and marked down to L29, it rang up at L12!!!!
Needless to say, I now have clothes that fit snugly and do not look like burlap sacks. I may be allowed entry into Milk with Hayden this weekend.
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