Friday Night Lights

Time for a funny not-so-little Piggins' story. It's about Delaney, the Divine Miss D, as she was dubbed at the time by a dear friend.


It was a cold and blustery Sunday. (No this isn't a Winnie the Pooh tale!). The boys were content to hang out at home watching football. I, on the other hand, needed to go the mall to return something and to get a new bathing suit for my aqua aerobics class. I had pre-shopped but needed to try on the three suits at the Speedo store. Since John was watching football and Delaney heard the word 'shopping' she went with me.


I made, what at the time seemed to be a reasonable deal with my three-year-old. I guess my first mistake was assuming (yes, eventually making and ass of me!) that I could reason with a three-year-old. You'd think I would have known better. The deal was that we would do my errands - to Hudson's to return and then to the Speedo store. I assured her that all told, it would only take an hour and then when time's up, we'd go to the indoor play area that was designed like breakfast food. We just called it - the breakfast area.


We got to Woodland mall and within 15 minutes had completed the return at Hudson's. We then went to the Speedo store, which happened to right in front of the breakfast area. As we started to go into the Speedo store, I saw Delaney look longingly at the play area and I reminded her of our 'deal'. The clerk was a teen girl and she was talking on the phone, barely acknowledging our arrival. I quickly grabbed the three suits I'd chosen and with Delaney went back to the dressing room. 


Now, I don't know any woman that likes to try on bathing suits especially in January and I am no exception! Health-codes require us to keep our underwear on while trying on suits and I had on some of my respectable Hanes, french-cut briefs - so just the under the leg openings my 'mama wears' were showing. The first suit was too big. The second was just right. The third . . . As I had the third suit to my knees, Delaney announced, "Time's up" and she proceeded to go out of the dressing room. 


I was frantic. I called to the clerk and she didn't respond. I had no choice at that time but to pull the suit on and make a dash for my daughter. I put on my coat - such as it was - or shall I say, leather bomber jacket. I took off and looked at the clerk who looked back, pausing her phone conversation in mid-sentence, and continued out of the store. Of course the store alarm went off - as if I wouldn't garner enough attention in my current get-up. I walked into the play area - sure that all eyes were upon me, but I was too horrified to look anyone in the eye - grabbed my daughter as quickly as possible. She of course took to crying loudly, to grab the attention of the one or two people that hadn't noticed me with my bomber jacket and lily-white skin in a Speedo one-size too small with my 'mama wears' peaking out of the leg openings.


I walked carrying a crying pre-schooler/toddler back into the store. The clerk was still on the phone (I'd love to know who she was talking to and what exactly was said - perhaps something like 'you won't believe the crazy lady . . .'). I promptly put on my clothes while keeping on hand on Delaney and with what little pride I had left, went out of the store (again avoiding any stares) and to the car. Delaney was protesting that she didn't get to play in the breakfast. I tried not to listen. 


It was probably a couple days before I could even tell anyone about the happenings at Woodland Mall that cold January afternoon. Now just conjuring up the image of me in the get-up brings me to laughter. Can you imagine?


Funny thing is, no one I know has ever said they saw me. Despite the fact that the mall was crowded and the play-area packed with plenty of children and parents. Of course, if it had been me and I'd seen someone I knew looking like I did, I wouldn't confess to being a witness!!