Caveat lector:

The following is a summary of today�s shopping expedition. Fortunately for you, I almost never go shopping. You will probably not be subjected to such drivel for at least another six months, if not a year. And if you do not wish it to read it now, I totally understand. And if you do anyway, please don�t hold it against me.

I spent the morning getting in touch with my inner girlie girl. I should have been writing this morning, but instead, inspired by descriptions of elgan and teranika�s shopping spree, I decided to tackle a less academic problem, namely the fact that I had no clothes fit to wear in the classroom in two weeks (gah!). I realize that losing a significant amount of weight should be an occasion for jubilation, but I really, REALLY hate to shop for myself. Then there�s also the major annoyance that the band to boob ratio has changed once again as I dropped a band size and still haven�t lost any boobage. If I thought I had porn star proportions before, I really have them now. This means that shirts never, ever, EVER fit me. Miraculously, though, I managed to find not one but three blouses that didn�t pucker and gap or make me look like a cheap $2 whore. I�d say I at least look like a $20 whore now. I also found two camisoles that can handle my industrial strength bra straps, a few bras to wear under them, a dove grey striped blazer (for less than $40 � you�ve got to love H&M) and a wrap cardigan that is so soft and such a beautiful shade of green that I�m considering jettisoning every item in my wardrobe that cannot be worn with it.

Alas, I failed in achieving true girliness by a) avoiding Sephora entirely and b)failing to find a single pair of shoes, although it wasn�t for wont of trying. My shoes are a shambles. But I don�t do pointy, pointy toes, which seemed to rule out about 95% of the non-athletic shoe inventory. The remaining options were all out of stock in my size, and so I left in the same big stompy clogs that I came in with. But I�m still dreaming about some cute red kitten-heeled Mary Janes. I don�t know what got into me. If I let pure appeal control the shoe-buying without any sense of practicality, I would have nothing but red shoes in my closet.

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