Shortie

It's a short week here at the Barbaric Yawp. Sergei and I are taking the kids on a Vacation mid-week through the weekend, where we hope to go to the beach, see relatives, eat out, and run a 5k. (Well, Girl-child and I will walk it.) Therefore there is no Poetry Friday this weekend...Happy 4th, y'all!

I had an interesting Saturday. Sergei and I were going to An Event and I had gone shopping for a dress. I don't wear dresses. As a general rule. Work doesn't demand it, I usually end up sitting open-legged like a guy anyway, so why bother? Anywho, got the dress, but needed something underneath it, something like a slip. So Saturday early afternoon I dragged Girl-child with me to Famous Department Store to get a slip.

Apparently I'm old and senile, because they don't make slips anymore. Not like I remember them making slips. Despite the store's size, there were only a handful of proper slips, and none in my size. They did, however, have some lovely camisoles and half slips. Girl-child pleaded, "Can we GO already? This is BORing,", I managed to find a top and bottom in my size, didn't try them on (why should I? My size!) and we paid for them before Girl-child's head exploded.

Later that evening as I dressed for the event, I put on the cami...perfect fit. I twirled the half-slip around to put it on. It had legs.

Legs?

In a half slip?

It wasn't a half slip.

It was a pair of bloomers.

Not kidding.

BLOOMERS.

Sergei laughed at me. With me.

I decided to forgo the bloomers. The dress was actually okay without it.

But now I own a pair of bloomers.

I could take them back, but they're such a fetching article of clothing...and besides, maybe I need to be a flapper or something for Halloween.

Are slips dead? Am I THAT old?