Saturday, March 26, 2005

New shoes Jeff!!!

So I've got to get new shoes and I'm looking round the shops. Now this is my worst nightmare. I normally don't mind wandering round shops. But going round shops to look for new stuff for me is impossible. I go into sport and soccer, the amount of different styles is overwhelming so I walk straight out. I was umming and ahhing over a £6 pair of trainers for Chrissakes. Buying clothes is just as bad. I hate buying clothes. I hate new clothes. It takes me ages to get used to the idea. A few years ago the then love of my life bought me a pullover for christmas, it took me nearly six months before I could wear it. My ex wife had to sneak my old clothes out of the house in a bin bag and dump them so I wouldn't wear them anymore. I'm always full of good intention. I march right into the shop full of confidence about buying a new coat for instance and within 30 seconds I'm shaking and panicking and I have to get out. I'f I went into the same shop with you, to get YOU a new coat I'd be happy browsing the racks for ages, no problem. I could even give you fashion advice and make comments like "No your bum doesn't look big in that." I'll happily go shopping with you, but you'd go crazy if you went shopping with me, for me.
So I try to go into three or four shops and the same thing happens, panic sets in. Totally demoralised and broken I make my way back to the multi story car park get into my clapped out Nissan Primera 2.0SGX and start driving home. I pass a garage with cars in the yard. I stop see a lovely Renault Meganne Scenic. It's five grand.
I buy it there and then. No problem. I now have a new car.
So why can't I buy a bleedin pair of shoes for myself?

I've figured out how to buy jeans for myself. I know exactly where I'm going. I know exactly the right size I need and style. I drive to the shop. Take a deep breath and run inside, grab the jeans and run to the check out. Pay up and dash out all in the space of two minutes. Sorted. Any longer than that and I'm liable to drop the jeans in the nearest bargain bin basket and run out of the shop empty handed.
The words "Mikel you're impossible." have been said to me many times.
Girlfriends of mine who in the past have taken pity on me and suggested they'd go with me to choose some new clothes because they are fed up with what I wear have resorted to tearing out their own hair. One threatened to go to the kitchen department and stab herself with the nearest sharp knife. Most have vowed never to go shopping with me again if it's something for me.
You girls don't have this problem. You'll rush out and spent the day buying new clothes like it was an olympic event. My ex wife had no problem at all in buying herself clothes. In fact she was so good at it ................ well here's the picture. When we first married we had a wardrobe. She had the left side I had the right hand side. Then we had two wardrobes. I still had just the right hand side of one of them. Then the chests of draws I had the top two of one she had the rest. A third wardrobe was bought as her clothes increased in number. Then I cleared a small utility room and she had a walk in wardrobe as well. By the time of our separation my single half of the wardrobe had shrunk to a quarter and I could no longer see the bedroom carpet for piles of her clothes. All essential. All designer labels. There was no room for me in the house anymore. That's not the reason for our separation of course. But it makes a good joke.

iPod now playing - Rufus is a tit man by Louden Wainwright III

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