Pants, pants, pants

Yesterday was odd.

Me and my mother went to 1 Utama to do a spot of shopping since I found out that surviving on only a single pair of slacks in a college course that demands formal wear during presentations is just not possible. So, there we went on a slack-hunting spree.

Of course, the night before I stayed up until 4 a.m. give or take half an hour, and got up at nine. Needless to say, I wasn't an angel that morning. We went to a few shops in Bangsar Baru first, but ended up turning to 1 U after an hour of browsing and tire-air-pumping.

We went up, we went down and we went all around 1 U. It was...tiring. And particularly frustrating. I really hate slacks at this point of time. The majority were either too loose, too odd, or they gave me a wedgie the size of Manhattan. It sucked balls. Or, to be more precise, it would have crushed any balls that existed down south.

For some odd reason, even after I got two pairs of slacks, my mother still went after pants. Casual this time. G & H was a hotbed for casual, on-sale stuff. My mother went mad. So, there I was trudging off to the changing room with three pairs of L-sized pants. None of which could fit. At all. I even started muttering to myself in my frustration. I remember something saying something along the lines of, "Damn these fucking pants. I've got to be fucking dead to wear these fucking pants and if I do, I will be fucking screwed!"

I came out of the changing room, shoved the pants into the waiting salesgirl's hands and said, "I can't even fucking fit into these stuff." My mother said she couldn't fit into size M either.

Conclusion: The cut is for those with non-existent waistlines! Ah... made more sense.

So, I went back into the changing room to try on XL. And then, three pants become four...then five, the six... They just kept coming via the salesgirl compliments of my shopaholic mother. It was madness!

I ended up getting a pair of jeans, tight fitting cargos (are they even supposed to be tight fitting?!), drawstring pants and [insert gasp here] a pair of black coloured three-quarters. Yes, yes, three-quarter pants. A style I haven't worn out into public for... years. In fact, anyone who knows me will vouch for the fact that they only see my legs when I wear the compulsory school skirt or was forced into a swimsuit for the swimming test. In other words, I do NOT show leg. Wearing it out will be an interesting experience.

On a side note, we ended up walking back and forth and back and forth from the old wing to the new one because:
1) My mother gets lost easily.
2) She couldn't make up her mind on where she wanted to go next!
3) See the above.
4) Refer to number 2 and 3.

Oh, and I saw Eric from MM sitting on a bench with an unknown female (who's a dear, I'm sure) while passing British India (or was it South East Asia?). I was basically stoning while walking and looking at nowhere in particular when I made eye contact with him. My first thought: Huh... familiar face. My second: Oh my god! He's from college! And he's waving at me! My third thought after waving back somewhat less enthusiastically: Okay... that was odd.

I returned with sore fingers, legs and arms.

And I realised that throughout the whole experience, I didn't get a single top to match any of the slacks! So now I'm left with more formal bottoms than tops!

Now ain't that interesting?

P.S. I'm not going through another shopping experience like that again for a very long time to come.