When I write, or speak for that matter, I always assume I am understood. Unless there’s a reason to assume otherwise, I feel like the Great Communicator. Patting myself on the back here because there are so many things I don’t do well, that surely communicating is my forte. So on to my well-explained story.
One of my fun friends and I were recently discussing our complete dislike of shopping.
Omnipotent Narrator: Sally is thinking about grocery shopping which has been in her purview for many a decade. The attitude of drudgery with which she approaches this task rivals a scullery maid’s in an 18th century manor house. Sally is a little melodramatic.
Unbeknownst to Sally, her friend of 30+ years is thinking about clothes shopping. The friend, while a trim and in shape gal, feels she could be much trimmer and in shaper. (!)
So, as we continued to discuss our mutual enemy, that of the store and throwing our money away, I decided to ask her, “Would you mind shopping if you were a millionaire?”
Without missing a beat, she asked me, “Would you mind shopping if you were a size two?”
Maybe my friend was suggesting grocery shopping could be more festive if I floated down the aisles, squeezing in easily for the first time in my life between the displays of seasonal goods and the pyramids of soup.
I pictured my svelte size two self in the dairy aisle with a million bucks in my purse. I was barely managing the cart at the supermarket, for if I were a size two, I was surely emaciated and weak. I was going to head right over to the fresh pasta aisle and champagne fridge and remedy this problem. Next, I imagined arriving home and needing help carrying the bags-between my weakened state and my high heels (don’t size two gals always wear heels?) I was going to need a marine escort. Send in the troops, Madam is back from Hannaford!
Once inside, with my million dollar life surrounding me, I would inevitably notice I had forgotten the foie for the foie gras or the truffle oil for my quail eggs. Also, I would have been seen in my Jimmy Choos and Vera Wang. I would have to change outfits before heading out again. The drudgery was inevitable. The headache was coming on. There were no marines to help me with this one.
So, I simply said, “Yes, I would still hate shopping.”
I hope my stories are more clear than my conversation!