I Showed Her Good

One time. In Vegas.
I was at a clothing shop, scoping out some pants.  I picked up a pair of  awesome corduroys in size 8 and the lady-helper-worker told me I would need a size 10.  I was wearing a puffy vest;  that's the only reason I can assume she would say such a thing.
But I took both sizes to the dressing room.  I tried on the size 10 first and they were too big. So I tried on the size 8.  They were just perfect.  So perfect, in fact, that when I walked out of the dressing room to show my hubby, the shock on the lady-helper-worker's face was quite apparent.  Whatever I wore in to the store  must've been pretty ugly or big and baggy or something to warrant the reaction she gave.  But she gathered herself quickly and made right by it.  And I felt good about the pants.

Is it wrong that this story secretly makes me smile?  I felt a little bad for the woman, because she must have been embarrassed.  But at the same time, it felt really good.  Which part makes me feel good though.... that I was wearing size 8s?  Or that the woman was embarrassed?
Admittedly, it's both.  I know.  I'm not supposed to feel that pride.  I'm just a person though, full of faults and fits.



Remember that time you secretly felt good because you "showed them"?




I ♥ Single Digits!  As I plow away at a giant bowl of rocky road.