I like having new clothes. I can claim that I used to be mildly interested in fashion. I have absolutely no patience for shopping.
Now I have Arlo, I really hate shopping.
Shopping with Arlo goes like this:
Navigate narrow aisles picking up after Arlo as he pulls all the clothes off the racks.
Say ‘Excuse me’ a million times, bitter that the relaxed singleton shopper has not noticed your cumbersome buggy trying to get around them, as they peruse the clothes with all the time in the world.
(Some shop floors really aren’t designed with buggies in mind. I’m looking at you, Topshop).
Predict how long it will take before Arlo is screaming to get out of the buggy.
(The second shop is a pretty good bet).
Channel ‘I am clearly busy, don’t you dare try to stop me’ vibes towards the charity people as you push along a screaming child.
Wait to use the big changing room that can fit in the buggy.
Give up on waiting, thinking ‘I can always come back and exchange if it doesn’t fit’.
Never come back to exchange.
Remind yourself of your body three years ago. ‘Oh, those were the days. These clothes would have looked great on you then. Why the hell did I complain about my figure back then??’
Realise that Arlo has escaped through the gap at the bottom of the changing room door.
Or, an alternative scenario; surrender to the fact that you will flash your bits at shop staff and random members of the general public as Arlo plays peekaboo with the curtain.
Postpone buying any clothes for yourself until you are back to your old shape. ie, never.
Head to the babywear section and buy something ridiculously unnecessary that you will need to hide from Sam until you can claim that it was bought in a sale.