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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the Columnists.com, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Pursuit for Pants....
 


The Pursuit for a Pair of Pants

Who would think finding a pair of women's navy dress pants could be so difficult? There are dozens of pairs of black pants everywhere, but navy is a different matter. To make problems even worse, the older I get the less I like shopping in malls and big department stores. No sacrifice is too great in pursuit of a pair of pants, however.

I entered the door of Kohl's and found black shopping bags on wheels instead of shopping carts. I grabbed one and looked around. The store was a maze of racks and clothes: long racks, round racks, tall racks, and short racks. Between the garment racks were other women shoppers pushing little black shopping bags of garments like worker ants gathering crumbs.

There were many divisions in the store: Junior, Misses, Women, Plus-size, Sports, Jeans, and Designer fashions, each in a separate section. It would be so much easier if they put similar items of the same size in one place -- but maybe that is why it is called a "department" store.

I needed a plan.

There were aisles between the racks, creating superhighways for the shopping ants. I decided to work up and down each aisle regardless of the department and look for my pants. I was immediately distracted by a cute little vest with fringe on it; however, I resisted. I was not there for anything but a pair of pants.

My plan seemed to work. I skipped the racks with tops and looked only at the ones with bottoms. The sizes were mixed, so I had to check each pair of pants to see if it was my size. It never was. Apparently, other fat ants had been here first.

Time stood still as I worked my way up and down the streets and avenues of clothes. I learned to speak the language of the ants, "Clearance, On Sale, 30% - 70% Off, Half Price." Nothing was full price, nothing except the vest with fringe, the cute one. Remember?

An equally cute black crochet cardigan jumped out right in front of me. I might as well try it. I crammed it in my black bag before another ant found it. Finally, I found a few pairs of pants in my size, in the right color, and at the right price. I could no longer tell if I was looking at different clothes or only looking at the same racks over and over.

At one point my black cart narrowly missed colliding with another black cart whose driver was looking at clothes instead of where she was going. She shot me an angry look for being in her path she must be a fire ant.

I can no longer remember if I am a member of the human species. I am lost in the jungle of clothes.

Maybe I should find a dressing room and try things on. One pair of pants is too tight, one too long, and one made me look like a droopy-drawers kid from an urban gang. In this entire store there does not seem to be one single pair of navy pants that fit me.

The black crochet top fit perfectly, of course.

On my way out, I was grabbed by that cute vest with fringe again. It taunted me to try it on. It was too small, so I could forget about looking trendy. "Extra Large" is apparently only a tease in the vocabulary of junior-sized shoppers.

I stood in the long line at the cash register, my black bag inching closer and closer. I wanted to get away from this ant hill and go home.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up with a cardigan I didn't need and no navy pants.


Copyright 2015 Sheila Moss
 
 



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