And I have the swollen, tender eye to prove it. And a scratch! Don’t forget the scratch! (Don’t worry… I’m fine.)
I sort of deserved it. I was breaking the rules. The fine store I was shopping in has a five-item-limit rule and I had more than five. Like, five times more than the limit.
I was in a hurry because Matt and I had dinner reservations (we were on the call-ahead list) for Outback. I was hungry, and I was breaking the rules, so I was rushing.
I pulled a shirt over my head and pulled down as hard and fast as I could, and the hard metal (okay, really thick cardboard) price tag sliced my eye. In the midst of the searing pain shooting through my eye-lid I found myself awkwardly stuck, arms sticking out of differing holes, head not quite out the neck-hole. I was nearly panicking, thinking I was bleeding all over this shirt. When I finally got the shirt on I found that I was not, in fact producing the amount of blood that I felt the pain justified. I guess that was good, but the amount of pain was surprising for such a tiny scratch.
The shirt looked pretty good but, just to punish it, I removed it (ever so gingerly), and hung it on the “not-gonna-buy” peg.
The rest of my trying-on experience went without attack. I found seven items I wanted to buy but only enough in my envelope to purchase five of them. I had to turn down a really cute (and on sale) jean skirt and a cute all-weather shirt. (That means, for Texans, that it was sleeveless.) That’s okay. I’ll be able to find another jean skirt one day and one of the shirts I did end up buying was a similar all-weather shirt. I’m good.
I woke up the next morning to a slightly swollen eye, a scratch that was easily covered up by makeup, and a bruise that hurt like the dickens when I washed my face. If you saw me at chapel Sunday you probably didn’t even notice, and I’m glad for that. Mostly. (If it looked as badly as I imagined it would due to the amount of pain I experienced, you might mistake me for a boxing champion… or the one who lost.)