Clothes shopping because why not

   “You know what we should do? We should buy some cute clothes for you.”
   “Hmm... thanks, but no thanks?”
   “Don’t be a lame-O, come on. Let’s buy spinny skirts and stuff, I know you like those skirts.”
   “I also like Elizabethan fraises, are we buying that too?”
   “Oh... from that thing you wrote, right? ‘something something like something to garnish the fraise..’, I like that one.”
   “Like it so much you didn’t bother to remember the only real rhyme I’ve ever came up with.”
   “Stop taking me places, dude. Let’s just go clothes shopping and stuff. Just don’t think about it.”
   “I think I’m fine not wearing a skirt, thank you very much.”
   “Oh, sure, Ms. Pants-and-long-sleeves-are-the-only-thing-inside-my-closet. Your boss isn’t wrong, you really look like a dyke.”
   “Don’t say dyke, that’s not cool.”
   “Oh, yeah, because you’re totally offended by it, Ms. Lesbos.”
   “Ms. Lesbos? Is that a reference?”
   “Who do you think I am?”
   “Someone that knows me enough to know I would catch that.”
   “And... someone who knows you enough to know that we should go shopping right now because I want to see you spinning until your legs fall off.” 

   And off we went, to the clothing stores, because I was forced to and totally did not want to go, I think, I don’t know, maybe I did.

***

   “Don’t look yet, but I found something that is sooo you...”
   “And when should I look?”
   “Now? I don’t know.”
   And there it was, a skirt so short and leathery that it definitely belongs in a Hot Topic.
   “Is that an invite for me to take the mistress role?”
   “As if you knew anything about dominating. It’s just cute, isn’t it?”
   “If you are a 13 year old pute, sure. I think I’m more of a in-her-twenties pute.”   

   “Alright, I got another one, look.”
   “Now that will make me look like a grandma.”
   “And you are...?”
   “Do you want me to say ‘grandma’?”
   “Yes. I do.”
   “I am a grandma that likes to use long skirts to clean the house and run across the meadow.”
   “That’s more like it. I’ll save this one.” 

   “O. K. look at this one, now this time I’m not kidding.”
   And she really wasn’t, that was the most precious thing I saw today.
   “It’s ok, I guess.”
   “And your eyes are saying ‘please, gimme it’. We’ll take it.”
   “Ok... So that means we’re going home now?”
   “That means we have a lead for your outfit, sweetie.”
   “Oh, god...” 

***

   Next store, only summer clothing. The beach dresses calling my name, but man, there’s no way I’m touching sand this summer.
   “Are you sure you don’t want any of these dresses? You’re so tall, they would look so cute on you, man...”
   “I don’t like these dresses.”
   “I don’t like you lying.”
   “I don’t like you reading me like that.”
   “You know that’s my job, pute.”
   “Is it your job to read people outside the office? Is it your job to be a creepy sick fuck?”
   “Why don’t you just go to hell and die?”
   “I’m not answering that.”
   “You just did.”
   “Stop bugging me, dude.”
   “Annie. Listen to me. You. Want. That. Dress. I know you do, don’t lie to yourself.”
   “And what if I did want it? Do I look like someone that is wearing a long summer dress for a picnic at the park?”
   “Hmm... I see your point.”
   “Yep. Distant dreams... Sweet taste of utopia on display; a life I will never live...”
   “Shut up... We’re still adopting some little rascals one day and we’ll be doing lots of picnics with them.”
   “Don’t say those things... We don’t know the future.”
   “You know I was joking, come on. Now you are being weird.” 

***

   Another store, winter articles in the middle of summer. Jackpot.

   “This place smells like losers.”
   “And we are...?”
   “Do you want me to say losers?”
   “Yes.”
   “Fuck you, Annie. Lucky for you I know exactly what we’re looking for.” 

   “Alright. Do you wanna see what I got for you?”
   “You know that I’m right behind you, right?”
   “Oh... You're right. So, what do you think? Turtle neck, looking french as hell. Maybe you could cut your hair chanel, and wear a beret and paint the Eiffel Tower and stuff... you know? Maybe.”
   “I like the turtle neck, but I’m not cutting my hair. Fake-french style.”
   “Alright, then. What about some striped tights now?”
   “And that is...?”
   “Like that girl from the harem cartoon. The emo one.”
   “Oh... I dig that look.”
   “Hell yeah, you do! That’s what I like to hear!”
   “And lucky you, the striped tights were already spotted. Come.” 

***

   We get home with the bags, cookies in the oven.
   “Come on, girl, what are you waiting for? Just put them on.”
   “I don’t know... I feel like I’ve done this before. It’s not a good feeling.”
   “Anastasia, don’t start with this bull crap again.”
   “Sorry.”
   “Look,” she puts a hand on my shoulder, “we have been through it, but now it’s different, ok? Now you are different...”
   The hug that came after felt comforting, but seeing her leave the room made all the heat go away, to the kitchen, with her. I was stuck in the iglu of my memories once more, naked, freezing, and the only thing I could see shining through the cold darkness was the spinniest of skirts. Such a fun skirt, but it wouldn’t protect me from the frostbite, I’m sure. It won’t revert the mess I made, it won’t cure my illness, it won’t save me from myself.

   I definitely need a bottle of wine right now.