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Trashy Shopping Friday Night

My favorite part of growing older is shedding the fear of what others think of me. I can remember distinctively the knot that would appear in my stomach whenever I found myself in a situation where I might chew my food the wrong number of times. Or laugh too strongly at a bad joke. Or wear a plaid dress with striped flip-flops. Ah, those were the days. These days I find myself not immune to the stares, but invigorated by them. It means I did something that shook another human out of a sugar-rushed, electronically-induced life coma.

My husband and I decided at 4:30 this afternoon to host a cook-out tomorrow. I was on my way back from the beach with Nadia (where I spent a delightful time knocked out sleeping with a huge beach blanket covering me). Ugh. I had to go to the store. I'm not a shopper, especially on Friday night, and more especially since I've been having these exhaustion spells that hit me out of nowhere.

But I had no choice, so I threw on a t-shirt over my swimsuit top and beach sand-crusted skin, my "beach" denim skirt, flip-flops, and a camouflaged bandanna and headed to Wal-Mart. On a Friday night. At 8 o'clock. I've dubbed the adventure my Trashy Shopping Friday Night. What fun! I did garner a few stares and giggles, but it was more because I was the lone Anglo purchasing Tekate and tostones (for the party tomorrow) than for my outfit.

Ah, less stress... I love the feeling of being free of what everyone else thinks of my appearance. Or the fact that I love Flinstones vitamins. And tostones.


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