Fvck you, Old Navy

[tracilicious]

As you may have read in Jet Set, we recently took a nine day trip to various parts of Oregon. As you may not have read (since I didn't post it), I've lost thirty five pounds since the beginning of the year. Hence, vacation shopping pretty much meant buying a whole new wardrobe. My budget being limited and my clothing size now being within the mass marketed range once again I headed off to what I considered the perfect mix of fashion and budget consciousness...Old Navy.

I certainly wasn't disappointed. I found so many clothes that were trendy enough for me to feel fashionable, yet refined enough so that I didn't feel like I was trying to dress like a teenager. All within my price range (OK, I only went a little over budget!). I was extremely happy with my stylish new clothes. In fact, at the unschooling conference a newly formed cuddling teenage couple asked me to sign their pants. They thought I was an unschooler! (The look of horror on their faces when they found out I'm a mom was so priceless.)

Fast forward to last night. I went into work to pick up my paycheck wearing a cute pair of capris with cool snappy things on the pockets and my strawberry shortcake shirt (hey, not all my clothes are refined, OK). All was well, I was feeling good, chatting with another employee etc. Until I heard my manager say the following words:

"You know there's a hole on your ass, right?"

I said, "What?" He repeated, "You know there's a hole on your ass, right?" I immediately grabbed my own ass in search of said hole. Aware that I was groping myself and making the situation worse, I went over to the two way window and checked out my ass. There was indeed a rip in my pants. The mirror showed a horrifying inch and a half of exposed ass skin. Now I was faced with the dilemma of needing to walk out knowing that my ass skin was showing. I did a combination of hands near my pockets trying to act nonchalant and simply walking away, knowing that everyone there had already seen my ass skin.

I will gladly pay $20 more for every pair of pants I buy for the rest of my life if it means that I never have to hear the words, "You know there's a hole on your ass, right?" again. Please god, never let me hear those words again. Fvck you, Old Navy. Fvck you hard.