She was a woman of a certain look. I would almost bet that her employer is one of those joints near the airport that employs women who are, um, trying to put themselves through school. On this particular evening though, she was not working (I don’t think she was anyway). She and her family were busy grocery shopping. There was her husband (sporting a button down flag collage shirt) and a few kids tagging along as she browsed the isles of WalMart. They were the most attention grabbing group in the store without a doubt. Her hair was bleached beyond what any strand of human hair should be… it was fried and frizzy with about 2 inches or so of dark roots. Her makeup was, well, she had makeup on – powder blue eye shadow, false lashes, and a smidge of glitter on her cheekbones.
She was wearing a dress that was made of the same pattern on the man’s shirt. The dress… oh my. It was a tight fitting cotton blend dress that had enough fabric to just barely cover her ass. She had stilettos at the end of her pegs and a small purse hanging from her shoulder to her thigh. When I encountered this family, the husband was digging through the items already in the cart, the kids were at the helm attempting to push the cart down the aisle while the woman was bent over carefully placing a case of water under the basket. On first glance I thought she wasn’t wearing any panties… oh my, she’s shopping commando style! But as I tried to maneuver my basket away from the dreadful sight before me, the woman (still in a semi-squat) spread her legs slightly revealing a small patch of fabric covering her girl junk. Just barely.
Adventures into stores almost never fail to entertain me. I normally encounter at least one person who is either dressed badly or behaving badly. At the other end of the store, just about the time I was shown the strippers girl junk, another woman was exiting the store with some products that were not hers…. or at least she hadn’t paid for them yet. As I rounded the corner in my efforts to escape the flag family, I saw these big huge men running through the store exhibiting a valiant effort to recover those items. Now these big huge men were not in the category of big, huge, & buff. Oh no. They were of the big, huge, & slovenly category… running… well, more like ½ running ½ trotting to catch the offender. With each trotting motion, one man’s shorts were slipping further and further down his body threatening to expose his man junk at any second.
I quickly turned around, choosing the flag covered girl junk over the trotting, slovenly man junk…
I think I’ll stay home today.