interview pants

I bought me some clothes. Interview pants and all. It turns out there was a sale, and that plus my shrink having thrown me a couple of discount cards (a patient gave them to her, she passed some on to me) got me things like a pair of $65 dress pants for $28 and a matching $100 jacket for $48. Hell yeah. I don't like shopping even a little tiny bit. I didn't like it when I had money, and I like it even less now that I am broke. A___ went with me - having a partner helps immensely. So I now own something which approaches a suit. It's sort of weird to think of me wearing something like that, but I'm sure I'll either shrink or grow out of my newly acquired businessy wardrobe soon enough. Presumably not before my interview on Monday though.

Speaking of shrinking, after shopping we got snacks and boy is that not sitting well. The pastry counter person gave me a cheese filled pastry. Cheese pastry is not what I asked for and for a really good reason (aside from my not being fond of the taste of cheese filled pastries). The really good reason is I've been lactose intolerant for frikkin ever, and on top of all the stomach fuckery I've been having over the last few years, the ill advised cheese pastry has made for a very unhappy PFG intestine tonight. It is making some very threatening rumblings and I am not happy. Of course I ate the henious cheese pastry. I was starving - it was a choice between not eating and feeling horrible immediately or eating and taking a lactase pill and hoping it would work (or the third option - going back to the pastry counter and asking for the right pastry - with a rotten attitude and feeling crappy, which would have likely resulted in a bit of an embarassing scene).

Part of hating shopping is the wretched low blood sugar feeling I come away with. When I dated a diabetic, I actually tested my post-shopping sugar a couple of times. It was sort of satisfying to know that the shitty feeling is not just an "in my head" kind of thing...unless we want to speak very literally and count the lack of glucose for reasonable cerebral function as falling under the category of something which is in one's head. Shopping has gotten less foul since I realized this. It still sucks, but at least I don't come away from it feeling like total hell.
Unless I eat a cheese pastry.
Blurg.