Put the pants down and back away slowly…

It’s a miracle that I’m able to dress myself every day.

Confession time, my friends. Shopping for clothes is a nightmare for me. I hope no one will revoke my Woman Card for saying that, but it’s true.

My problem with clothes shopping is similar to my problem with shopping for greeting cards — I tend to overthink EVERYTHING.

It starts off simple enough. After perusing my closet, I determine that I don’t have the right type of outfit for a particular event. For the sake of this post, let’s say I’ve been invited to a wedding reception. Because that’s something I’ve done recently and that I hope I will continue to get invites for throughout my life.

So I start thinking to myself, “okay self, I need an outfit for this wedding reception. And it should be a nice outfit, because I really love the bride and she deserves to see me in something nice. Wait, is that what I meant to think? No that’s not it. I should wear something nice because I need to show off my hot body. Something that says ‘I may be 34, but I could totally pass for 30 if I put in enough effort.’ Wait, why settle for 30? I could pull off mid 20’s if I wanted to. THAT’S WHAT I’M GOING TO DO. I’m gonna show everyone that I can still look like a 20something when I feel like it. And even though I’m happily married I still need to show off my hotness.”

At first this seems like a simple enough task. I hop in the car and head to Kohl’s, confident in my abilities to pick out an outfit in a hurry for a reasonable price.

But then I get there and it all starts going downhill.

First I start to wonder what kind of twentysomething look am I going for. Am I trying to look like *I* did at 25? Or what 25 year olds dress like now? I quickly realize I don’t know the answer to either question. Much like the agony I experience trying to make a menu where I seem to forget everything I’ve ever eaten, I suddenly forget everything I know about clothes shopping.

I grab a cart — not because I’ve remembered that that’s a thing people do when they shop, but because I need something to steady myself. Then I start trudging onward toward the women’s section. I try to regain some semblance of sanity by returning my mind to the task at hand.

“Okay, self, why did I come in here again? Right, I’m getting an outfit for a wedding. And I’m trying to look younger for some reason. So clearly the color I need to wear is red, because that is my color. Plus it’s the color of love. But wait, would red be too loud? And is that a bad thing? Maybe I want to be loud. Okay, so I need an outfit that loudly expresses my love and appreciation for the happy couple, but says it in a quiet way. Wait, did I just say that I should be loud in a quiet way? What is wrong with me? Anyways, I feel like since they’re getting married in a pretty conservative church that I should wear a dress. Because I look awesome in dresses. Wait…no I don’t. I look awesome in pants. I should wear some nice dress pants. But would pants be too loud? Maybe I want to be loud. Okay, so I need pants that loudly express…wait, did I already have this thought? Am I trapped in some kind of thought loop? How do I get out of this thought loop?”

Before long I find myself paralyzed by overthinking, holding some random pair of pants that isn’t even close to my size. But I still try to toss it into my cart because I seem to think that I can manage to squeeze into smaller sizes by sheer willpower. Or I’m just losing my mind. I think the latter is a more realistic possibility.

After a few more rounds of getting stuck and digging myself out of the thought loop, I miraculously manage to pull together enough clothing items of reasonable size that I feel a trip to the dressing room is in order. So I make my way over to the dressing room, praying that I still remember how to dress myself.

It is in the dressing room where another strange phenomenon occurs. Typically I arrive at a store feeling pretty good about how I look. My hair is neatly groomed, my outfit is nice — I’ve got it going on. But for some reason whenever I stand in front of a dressing room mirror —- DARK CIRCLES UNDER MY EYES! HAIR IS A MESS! I’VE GAINED TWENTY POUNDS SINCE I WALKED IN THE DOOR! It. Never. Fails. I would not be the least bit surprised to learn this is some sort of department store conspiracy. They install trick mirrors and terrible lighting to make you look and feel awful, but then when you put on their clothes suddenly you look awesome. That’s how they get you.

Before I completely descend into madness, I manage to try on a few outfits. Most of them seemed like they would be great, but then when I actually wear them I wonder who even designed such rags and why. Eventually I find something that I think is awesome. It is a revelation. My goodness, this outfit is what I’ve been missing all my life. It is stunning. It makes my butt look grand. It shaves off the twenty pounds I gained from walking in the door plus ten more. People will fall at my feet and weep with appreciation for this outfit.

A small part of me questions whether it really is this amazing or if this is the department store induced temporary insanity talking. A bigger part of me decides it’s better not to question it and it would be safer to just get the outfit and run before I can get any crazier. So that’s exactly what I do. And then I get home and discover…

…this outfit is almost exactly like one I already have.

And I question why I ever thought to go clothes shopping in the first place.

Usually I avoid this madness by taking my sisters with me. They are the drill sergeants of clothes shopping. They don’t even let me pick stuff half the time. I get told what to wear and what looks good when I try it on and I skip all the mental gymnastics. It’s great. Unfortunately they are not always available so more and more I find myself venturing into the scary world of clothes shopping unattended.

So if you ever see me at a department store holding pants with a vacant expression on my face, may I recommend the following:

• Tell me to put the pants down.
• Tell me my hair looks great like it is.
• Escort me safely out the store.

And the most important thing — call my sisters. They can take it from there.