Today was supposed to be a good day. Things started off well. My sister had invited me to go along with her to the Omaha Public Library's book sale. We've been before and found lots of great books for next to nothing. And it benefits the library. I love when something benefits me and a place I love. Win win. So, we meet up at the book sale. And what did I find? Just three books. I think everyone must have beat us to all of the good books. And what did my sister find? A Stacey Ballis book. For $1.50. I have been wanting a Stacey Ballis book and never am able to find one. I seriously considered wrestling Stacey for the book, but decided to maintain my composure. I may have shed a tear in frustration, though. We followed up this trip to the book sale with a trip to a local cookie shop for a treat. Stacey took the girls with her to the cookie shop and I had an errand to do next door.
I had the brilliant idea last week to take some of my old clothes that no longer fit me :( to a store called Plato's Closet. I had heard on a radio show that they buy used clothes and sell them at a greatly reduced price. Perfect, I thought. Because when I can no longer shove my chub into cute clothing, I feel that I should be financially compensated.
So, once I got to the store I quickly felt completely out of place. The store was packed with 14 and 15 year olds and a couple of mothers. I was closer in age to the mothers, sadly. But I took my bags and waited in the line at the buy counter. I had never been in this store before and stood in line for what felt like 20 minutes waiting for someone to look at my things. I waited while one woman was offered $62 dollars for her bags of clothing, and another was offered $16 for hers, but was given some bags of clothing back. I guess some things are refused, as I would expect. Thankfully, I was in possession of 2 fantastic bags of clothing. And they are all in a size 2, which should fit a lot of tiny little teenagers. So, I got up to the counter filled with confidence and even thought I might look around for a couple of sweaters. You know, to throw the store a bone, since I would totally be leaving this store much richer than when I entered. I was told to come back in 15 minutes. So, I looked around for a couple of minutes until I was intimidated by the groups of 15 year olds and left to find my family at the cookie shop.
After scarfing down a delicious oatmeal scotchie, I had regained my confidence and my posse, so we reentered the store. Stacey and I turned the kids loose and began browsing the racks. I had found a couple of sweaters and Stacey had found some things as well. The girls found every glittery halter top in the store which they would rip from the rack, run across the store, and yell "Don't you love this shirt?" I told them that every one of those shirts would all look lovely on Stacey. hee hee.
After my 15 minutes had passed, I handed Stacey my sweaters to hold just in case the offer on my clothes wasn't as fantastic as I was expecting. So, I walked up and told the boy behind the counter that I wanted to know if my offer was ready. He grabbed a bin from behind the counter, which had all of my clothes still in their bags in it. Hmm. This didn't look good. He then proceeded to tell me that their buyer couldn't buy any of my clothing from me. How could this be, I wondered. My clothes are all awesome. I just can't squeeze my chub into them anymore. Well, he went on to say that they really only buy clothing that is for teenagers and my clothes weren't really for them. (These clothes came from Gap, Abercrombie, Old Navy, Express, and American Eagle. Are those stores not teenager stores?) But, to soften the blow (or twist the knife, more like), he told me that there is a store across the street called Chloe's Closet which carries more "womanly" clothing and they would probably be more interested in my clothes. WTF? Did that kid just call me OLD?
I walked back over to Stacey and the kids with my two sacks of "womanly" clothing, and instructed her to put my sweaters back on the rack. So, we left. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. At this point, I chose laughter. Although, on the ride across the street, the barrage of questions Savannah was hurling at me from the backseat did not make me feel any better. "Why did that guy think you were old?" "How old are you supposed to be to go in that store?" "Are we going to an old person shop next?"
Chloe's Closet turned out to be a Granny's fancy dress shop. I strode in there with my sacks of rejected clothes and walked right up to the counter. (No waiting in line at the granny shop) The woman working there informed me that they only consign clothing and are only interested in "fancy, high end clothing" nothing casual. Then she eyes me up and down. (Did this bitch just imply that I am low-end?) She told me to take their flier listing their clothing requirements and give them a call at another time. "You really should try Plato's Closet across the street," she said. Apparently, I belong nowhere. But I am certain that I am not a fat old granny nor am I a low-end wanna be teenager. So, I'll be keeping my clothes that don't fit me anymore. They will be returning to my closet where they can mock me for not being able to squeeze into them anymore, and I'll never be returning to Plato's Closet again. This has been a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Some days are like that even in Omaha. That's why I live in Arlington.
I may have to contact Stacey Ballis and request an autographed book. It may be the only way to make me feel better. Well, that and another oatmeal scotchie.