Alls well that ends well.

So... Saturday was my last day at ACS. I know. Sad. Unfortunately for me, I could no longer work on Saturdays and they couldn't accommodate me because it wouldn't be fair to the other girls. Sure, I'm freaking adorable and that should have tipped the scales in my favor but what are you gonna do? 

I mean, I always gave 75% and was punctual and sweet and helpful and looked great in their clothes and shopped a lot and, um, did I mention I'm adorable?

Andy has breathed a sigh of relief because I will no longer be smuggling clothes into the house in the middle of the night while he's trying to defend the universe from some dude named the Lynch King (which they supposedly defeated but for some reason they keep battling?). He's also happy he won't have clothes tumble towards him as he walks by my dresser because I have towers upon towers upon towers on my little tiny itty bitty dresser. In all fairness, I think he should just get me a bigger dresser.

In all seriousness, I am going to miss working at ACS. It helped me so much when I had my mental meltdown 6 months ago, which I just hit the 6 month mark on Thursday, and kept my mind from focusing too much on what I thought was going to suck my brain dry.

I went in there thinking I was a shlumpy housewife and came out of there knowing that I'm not that at all! Part of the shlumpiness I felt was because I was not wearing clothes that fit me properly. I would go in and buy big loose shirts and stretchy pants and granny panties so of course I felt like an unattractive hag!

Thanks to the insistence of the women I worked with at ACS, I expanded my wardrobe horizons. I learned what type of shirts/blouses flatter my body. I learned that jeans could be your butt's best friend. I learned that I shouldn't be allergic to wearing light colors just because I always heard black was the only slimming color.

Most importantly, I learned that most women are kind and supportive and will verbally beat you up if you call yourself *fat*.

Working at ACS was a welcome distraction and I was able to put on pause the all consuming stress of working at the Asylum, my unhappiness with myself and it basically helped me not focus too much on my dark thoughts.

I believe that the activity also helped in my weight loss and *that* in turn helped transform my blood pressure from mercurial to steady. And honestly, I loved being out of the house. I mean, Andy has his hobbies and I felt like this was mine. It was somewhere I could go and interact with people that were closer to my age while at the same time help out women who were in the same imaginary position of shlumpy housewife I used to be in.

I also learned to accept *the booty*. No matter how much I try to outrun it, it's always gonna be right behind me (I crack myself up!) so I might as well make it work for me. Maybe I should even buy the Brazilian butt lift exercise. . . not that I'm gonna be doing booty pops or anything because who needs that image?

I was sorta depressed about the ACS situation but I have to admit I neglected a lot of the things I love doing because I always ended up too tired from working 2 jobs. I haven't hosted any family get togethers this year. I haven't been able to keep up with friends via email, facebook, blogs or phone. I mean, I went a whole week without seeing my little Isabella! Talk about heart breaking!

Sadly, one of the things that has suffered my neglect the most is my garden. Or, more accurately, my weed garden (and by weed I mean "any undesirable or troublesome plant, esp. one that grows profusely where it is not wanted" not maryjane weed).

Look! So pathetic!

And also, my blog. I haven't blogged as much as I'd like too. Blogging has always been my outlet and I find myself typing posts in my head but then when I get home, all I can think of is having my Coco Pebbles, because I'm 12, and then going to bed.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that the Sheriff is back so no more loitering at my street corner! No more coming over here and borrowing my things and then leaving them dirty and broken because I've got my eyes on you!

And to those of you who have kids who like leaving stray toys in my garden? They will be donated to a charity near you!

Oh! This means that the "Bee n' Andy" comic strip will be back too! Andy said "yay!" but he did it while shoving a pillow in his face so that confused me a little but he's always been a little odd so no worries.

Drawback?

::sigh:: No more 31% discount.

Yep. Another BOOB post! I cannot make this crap up.

I was at ACS ringing up a couple of ladies when one of them says to me:

First lady: She's lost 40 pounds! [points at her friend]

Me: Congrats!!

S L: Heeey! [does booty dance then stops suddenly and looks at me sadly] I can't seem to get rid of my breasts and butt though!

Me: Well, I'm sure your husband doesn't mind! ::wink::

S L: Pffft! I'm gonna get them reduced and he can either love me without them or leave me! I already have someone lined up in case he leaves me!

Both ladies laugh and so do I because what is there to say to infidelity?

S L: I like your boobs though, they're perfect! What size are they?

Me: ::stutter stutter:: what? Huh? Size Purple? [yeah, that's right. I always say size PURPLE]

S L: Yeah, there up high, perfectly round and look really good on you. You have some perfect breasts! [looks at me in appreciation]

Me: huhn huh ::blushes:: Thanks but I can't take credit for their alignment since the bra I'm wearing is doing all the work. If I take it off they'd be fighting for position down by my belly button.

S L: [laughs] What kind of bra do you have on?

I tell her.

S L: I don't like their bras. The ones I buy are great but they're a hundred dollars.

Me: Oh? What kind are they? [happy to have steered the conversation away from my breasticles]

S L: Intimates and I love this one I'm wearing now [LIFTS HER BLOUSE TO REVEAL HER BRA] I love the way it fits [SLIDES HER HAND UP AND DOWN HER BOOB!!!] [DID I MENTION IT WAS ALL LACE????] I would never buy another kind.

Me: [face contorted in shock]

My manager J walks to the registers and looks at me as if to ask "why is this woman flashing you?" and I telepathically tell her I'm scared and she responds with "do you need me to help you? maybe get you some water?" and then she walks away. I'm assuming to get me water.

Me: Yes well very nice. [and I know somewhere Andy's head is exploding because he's missing a woman flashing her boobs at his wife]

We talk a little more and as they're leaving, she says to me "nice getting to know you!".

Me (to J): What the hell do I look like? People's personal little toy who they can flash and grab?

J: I was like 'why is this woman exposing her chest?' and then I had to walk away before I bust a gut laughing at the expression on your face!

Me: Thanks for helping me there.

J: I was figuring you were enjoying the view.

Me: I tried to look away but there was nowhere to look that didn't have a boob view. . . She said I had perfect breasts. [I say sheepishly] so I guess it's all good.

Mannequin vs Bee. Can you tell the difference?

I want to show you guys something.

This is a mannequin (or 2):

This is a Bee:

(I know, awwww!)

One is made out of uh plasticy stuff and filled with sawdust. The other is made of out fleshy stuff and stuffed with bacon. One doesn't mind if you lift up its skirt (perv!) but the other one? The other one kinda likes keeping her goody bits hidden and/or untouched by groping strangers.

Now that we've made the distinction between Mannequin and Bee, and I'm hoping you figured out which one doesn't want to be touched, here's a peak into another one of my bizarre work days at ACS.

Woman: Did you buy these here? [touches my cute black capris with ruched drawstring at the leg area] [SHE TOUCHES ME!!]

Me [trying to step away so that her grubby hand releases me]: Yes.

Woman: Where are they? [goes to reach for me again WTF!]

Me [must resist the urge to slap her hand!]: They are in this section over here but we only have one size left.

Woman: Oh no! That's not my size! [still staring at me, walks around to get a better view of my... ass???] Those look great and the fabric isn't flimsy! [goes to touch me again]

Me [wondering if I can build a moat around myself]: Ma'am, I must ask you to stop touching me. I know I look like one but I am not a mannequin. [big smile because I don't want her to notice I have broken a hanger WITH MY BARE HANDS] 

Woman [seems offended but that's probably because she didn't get to touch my booty]: I just wanted to feel the texture again!

Me [nodding because I've heard that excuse for people wanting to touch me before]: I understand but you can feel the texture from this pair that is sitting on this hanger. Without a person inside of it. I promise they feel the same [big smile because we want her to think the customer is always right and even though love I it when strangers feel me up, maybe we should get some coffee first] Would you like me to call another store to see if they have more sizes?

Woman [touches the person-less capris all the while looking at me longingly]: What size are the ones you're wearing?

Me [squint at her suspiciously]: Size Purple.

Woman: That's the size I need! [gets closer to me]

Me: Before you ask me if you can try them on, [big smile] we also carry them in gray. Would you like to try those on? If they fit, we'll call another store for you.[big smile]

Woman: No, I'll just look online. [walks dejectedly out of the store]

Me: Alrighty then, buh-bye.

I don't know, you guys. I feel a little cheated. Like she got to feel the goods but then skipped out on payment by not buying anything from me. And also? Who does that? Who goes around touching sales staff as if they were part of the store's fixtures? I mean, if she would have been a HE and HE would have been Ryan Reynolds' abs I would have been all "Why of course you can squeeze me!" but we need to set some boundaries for people I don't find attractive to keep their mitts off my petunias!

::drool::

Things I have learned these past couple of weeks:

When you are on the treadmill and you have your earbuds in your ear so you can have audio to the visual of the Kardashians being buttheads, just because you can't hear anything, doesn't mean people cannot hear you. So keep that burp IN!

 

When you join Office Depot's membership rewards program at one of their stores, they will literally send you a welcome email 2 minutes after you've left the store.

 

Your husband, having read your 'jeans that accentuate your butt' post, will try to get out of an argument by saying 'those pants (or TROUSERS in britishspeak) make your butt look great!' and you will go along with it and end the argument even though you know what he's doing because in 11-12 years you have received exactly 5 compliments from him (and one of those compliments was 'this sandwich is delicious!' as if he's surprised) so you take what you can get.

 

You will do just about anything for $8 an hour. Including getting on your hands and knees (get your minds out of the gutter! I'm not finished)(that's what she said!) but you do draw the line at scuffing your shoes:

Margara: We're spring cleaning today and your job is to scrub the base boards throughout the store.

Me: Okay but I'm gonna do it barefoot.

Margara: Uh, no. You can't be barefoot in the store.

Me: Well, these shoes I'm wearing cost more than I make here in 2 weeks so either I take them off or I scuff them and have the store reimburse me.

Margara: Go ahead and take them off.

Me: [nod in approval at her asst. manager skills]

 

When at the gyny, enduring the much hated PROBING, having the doctor say:

Yep! There's your vagina!

Makes an awkward situation even more awkward because you wonder if going to an alley for a gyny exam was such a great idea.

 

I'm sure there's more I learned but when there's beer involved, I'm lucky if I remember my name.

Dejected, Rejected, Ejected!

I am usually good at things I set my mind on doing. My self and I have a little pep talk "Self, I know jumping rope is a gravity defying activity especially for you and your, um, well rounded booty but you've done it before. Granted, there was less of you when you were 10 but just remember to land on your feet and not your elbows. NOT THE ELBOWS!" After a few failed attempts and some detangling, I become an expert/professional/master.

This usually works on anything I really want to do. Except whittling. For some reason, everything I whittle winds up looking like a penis. Shut up Freud! If God intended me to whittle, he would have given me 3 extra fingers on each hand instead of good looks.

Anyway, working at Anonymous Clothing Store has been pretty easy. I take direction well and I'm not at all snobbish when told to mop or dust or even clean the freakin toilet. I've gotten pretty good at helping customers find what they they're looking for, rearranging clothes, keeping the displays neat and tidy and even the panty carrousel semi organized. It's all been a breeze and I have even kept my vicious tongue in check so as not to pulverize the lady who told me she was a Walmart girl and proceeded to have a fit when I told her a pair of underwear were not included in the 5 for $19 panty sale without letting me finish that this pretty little thong was only 96 cents. A bargain Walmart would be proud of [bitch!, she whispers].

The one thing I'm still having difficulty doing is getting people to apply for the store credit card.

I hear the rest of the girls, or old veterans as I call them, rattle off the spiel without any effort and then cooing in their victims ear as they take their wallet. While I can rattle off the spiel, I find myself hesitating to deliver the death blow that would have these poor suckers chained to the store forever. Speaking as a sucker myself, of course.

I can relate to people giving me the brush off when I say shit like "If you open the credit card and you use it on a regular basis, each dollar you spend BLAH BLAH BLAH"

I'm used to being on the other side of that spiel after buying my car, Andy's car and dealing with Bally's dickheads who almost forced my friend, who weighed NINETY POUNDS, to join against her will when all she was doing was keeping me company for the day with a guest pass. Those dumb bastards (yep, I really hate Bally) had us tour the gym (I usually went to one in Chicago and this one was one in a suburb) with a hot blond guy thinking we'd swoon and she'd sign her life away.  Well they only got it half right.

Pfffft! I don't need a hot muscular guy! I have my Andy!

Then, when we didn't fall for his twinkling blue eyes, they sent a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory who tried to to intimidate me by studying my membership card and saying "accidents can happen, ya know?" well, he didn't say it with words but I can read eyes. He just kept saying my name over and over as if to hypnotize me with with his slimy liver lips. I finally grabbed my card from his sweaty hands and said "if hot guy couldn't get her to join, why do you think you could?" and I told my friend, who seemed to be in a daze, to get up because we were leaving!

So yeah, my whole rambling point is that I know what it feels like to be hounded into doing something you don't want to do and yet I still find myself saying, in a last ditch effort to suck them into temptation, "For today only, whether you get approved or not, we will give you a discount of 25% off your entire purchase if you apply!" but instead of luring them into my pit of overextended credit, these responsible individuals, these paragons of virtue, these goody two shoe nerds who probably pay with cash and do weird things like save money in a bank, tell me to suck it because they ain't falling for my scam!

And so I'm left standing there, sad, lonely and dejected. Like a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory. Minus the liver lips.

Bastards.

P.S.

Thank you all for the comments, emails and the support. You have no idea how much that has helped me. I'm sorry it took me a while to moderate the comments but I keep getting spammed by people trying to get me to enlarge my penis. Again.

Anyway, your comments touched this jaded girl's heart and that's all I'm gonna say about that. ;o)

Jean Knee? Rawwr!