Old coat

I went to the thrift store the other day, in search of a winter coat, hoping to find one that looks nice and is well.. thrifty. A girl has to have a budget these days.

So I made what I thought was a good purchase. It's a tan colored corduroy coat with a white fuzzy collar. Okay so it is a boys coat, but all the girl coats were too big or too tiny or in some crazy print that made me dizzy when I looked at it. I have a hard enough time walking as it is, I don't need a coat making me dizzy there by increasing my fall potential. So I handed the cashier my $5 and out the door I went, fluffy boy coat in hand.

When I got home I tried on my coat again, it was a little big, but it was warm. I modeled it for Marco, "How lame do I look?" pause while I look at his face "Wait don't answer that!" Laughter.
"Good call," he said. As I was walking to the mirror to take a second look Marco so kindly informs me "Uh, did you know there is a stain on the back?" "What?" (dang that dim thrift store lighting) "What does it look like?" I hear more laughter from the peanut gallery, "Giz!" (nice technical term I know) "What!?" I turned to check it out for myself "Oh my god! I'm freaking Monica Lewinsky??" "Well just tell people it's bleach!" "It is bleach!" "Well then don't worry about it."

Easy for him to say. I tried not to worry about it, but I did. I shouldn't be allowed to purchase clothing from the thrift store without supervision, and the Monica coat... it keeps my bar stool nice and warm.