I had something going on every night this week. And y’all? I am NOT a night person. If you want to meet me for breakfast or for a run at 5am – I am ALL over that. But an evening workout or dinner and a play? I’m the WORST. Luckily my workouts were with people who knew me well and my social outing with someone I could relax around so this week it wasn’t so bad being out “late”.
(I had to put that in quotes because I was still home by 9:30 every night. SOOOO LATE FOR ME.)
That meant I had no time after work or dinner to do the domestic chores like dishes or laundry so I’ve been doing all of that in the morning which has been TOTALLY CRAMPING INTO MY BLOG TIME. Luckily, this week is an anomaly because if I really went that long regularly without blogging I’d have to start paying a therapist.
The play I saw last night was called “Love, Loss, and What I Wore” and it was written by Nora Ephron and performed by a couple of my friends. Y’all? I LOVED IT. If you are local, you have two chances to see it, if you’re not local keep it bookmarked in your mind in case it pops up in your community. Basically it’s storytelling around clothing and it got me thinking of all of the memories I have associated with an item of clothing. Or an outfit. I walked out of there thinking of NO LESS that 20 stories I’ve probably never told on this blog, all surrounding clothing.
SO! Today? You get the one about the Michael Jackson concert.
My Mom worked for a charity services group when I was little. When the Michael Jackson Thriller tour came to town, the charity (which helped children) was given tickets and they had more tickets than kids so my Mom took me. I WAS SO EXCITED. But I had nothing to wear. So, my Dad took me to Hills which was a discount store that had clothing (In my memory it was like the Wal-Marts of today, but it may have been even cheeper) and we found a pair of fake parachute pants. I say “fake” because parachute pants had a specific fabric to them and these? These were more like plastic cargo pants.
BUT STILL! Close enough. They were maroon and I wore them with a white top with stripes that totally didn’t match but my pickins’ were slim and I was just excited I had something close to cool.
Except they were essentially plastic. And we were going to a hot arena for a crowded concert.
And they melted. ON ME. There was a non-plastic lining to the pants, THANK GOD, but the plastic outer layer? Melted around the ass area. I never wore them again.
The concert was amazing, I could barely see Michael Jackson and it was before the days of multiple Jumbotron Screens so I felt a little short-changed. Like, Why do they sell tickets here if we can’t see them? But it was still my first concert and my first melted clothing.
It happens to everyone at least once, right?
At least everyone who buys their clothes at Hills.