Shopping and Other Tortures

I went shopping with my mother yesterday. Shopping is tops on my "things I desperately loathe" list. For starters, I am extremely hard to fit. I hear a lot of women saying that, so I'm starting to think that most of us aren't so very hard to fit, we just don't fit into the fashion industry's narrow ()literally and figuratively) idea of what a woman's body is like. I mean, women have boobs and hips. It's natural. It isn't something we should be ashamed of or work endlessly and tirelessly to change. Boobs and hips serve a purpose. I'd really love to get some acknowledgement of that fact from fashion designers. Personally, I am short and curvy. Yeah, let's go with curvy. I like my curves. I really do have an hourglass figure—it's just that I've got way too much sand in the bottom. I have what my Aunt Alice calls "birthing hips." Lucky me. I also have legs like tree trunks. Is it any wonder I hate shopping? But I have two weddings coming up, my sister's and Michael's sisters, so new clothes were a necessity.
There are certain obvious pitfalls to clothes shopping with one's mother. If we were shopping for furniture or curtains or home decor, she is the go-to woman, but clothes? Not so much. Mom shows me things like denim skirts, and says "But you love denim skirts." Yeah, when I was thirteen maybe. And she shows me pink, ruffley things, and skirts with floral prints. She means well, but ... Well, I'm not really a floral print kind of woman. That's hard to explain to the person who refuses to think of you as anything other than her little girl. And since I'm blind, I have to rely on the opinions of others to a fairly alarming degree. Also because I'm blind, texture matters, and let me just tell you, I have expensive taste in texture.
Fortunately, I did end up finding something that will work for both weddings. I found a nicely tailored black skirt, and a fine-gauge cardigan sweater with bell sleeves and lace trim. It is okay to wear black to weddings these days, isn't it? No wait, don't tell me. I already bought the outfit, so I don't want to know.
Now I just have to find some kind of top to go under the sweater, preferably something in a bright color like red or pink, and some shoes. Oh and pantyhose. Ugh, pantyhose.
In other, totally unrelated news, Saturday was the 700th anniversary of the Vatican's purge of the Knights Templar. I believe the Vatican has since decided that the Templar's weren't heretics after all. Oops. I'm sure that's real comforting to all those who were roasted alive or drawn and quartered. The Vatican, you gotta love 'em.
I gotta tell you, I do love Templar history. I admit to being a sucker for the current Templar action/suspense subgenre spawned by the success of the DaVinci Code. If it says secret society, Holy Grail, or papal history, you can bet it's going home with me.
Today, I begin my 70 Days of Sweat writing Challenge. It will be grueling because I am a slow writer, but it will teach me about time management and effective scheduling. I know, that's a lot to ask of 70 days.