Flapping around

What an incredible day that was! Personally, I had a great one. In the morning I went shopping and it was truly historic, the stores were pretty much deserted. It was like the Nordstrom instore pianist was playing just for me. Of course it was impossible to get served anywhere because all the employees were glued to the TV screens and glared at me if it looked like I had any questions. But for a few hours I felt like the survivor of some hideous pandemic nightmare. Which, after the last 8 years, I suppose we all are.

I was trying to find some more stuff for my show, given that the sun seems to revolve around ‘our angle’s’ arse at the moment. Specifically I needed a plain black t-shirt so I went to Old Navy, my usual regular source. But the t-shirts were all flimsy and not at all like the old ones, I think they’ve changed sweat shops.

So I tried on a little pair of lycra yoga shorts as everyone wears them to my hot sweaty yoga © class and I feel like some old granny in my regular running shorts. Everything seemed fine with the fit until I looked at myself in the mirror and discovered a certain strangeness in the ‘gusset’ area. To be blunt, it looked like one flap was hanging lower than the other. I refuse to use the word l-a-b-i-a, as it makes me feel a bit queasy and the last time I heard it spoken in public was during bootcamp a few months ago. Another bootcamp group was working out near us and the loud-mouth instructor yelled at the women lying on the ground to tighten up their l-a-b-i-a. It was 6:30 in the morning. I think all of ours automatically tightened, in confusion and horror.

Anyway, back to the Old Navy protrusion pants. I was a bit alarmed and had a bit of a feel around to see if I could tuck the hanging chad back in but after a few twirls around the dressing room it was back. I tried pulling the shorts higher up to see if it might disappear and then pulled them down around my hips but it still looked like my uterus was popping out. The hot sweaty yoga room is all mirrored so there’s no way I want my crotch to be the centre of attention. That time is past. I then tried on a pair of the long yoga pants, just to see if I’d picked up a dodgy pair. Same thing. So I urge you to go to Old Navy and check out your fanny flaps and see if you get the same thing. In the meantime I’ll get busy down there with a hand mirror, you know, just in case it’s me …

I did listen to some of the inauguration on the radio in the car and I was ready with this information as my defence in the event that someone might accuse me of being unpatriotic or something. Although I would assert that I was doing more for the country by spending my hard earned cash than people just sitting at home watching the TV. Or at least I would have done, had Old Navy stocked something other than freaky beaver yoga pants.

Since my last blog I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole racist thing. So it was appropriate to have a very Larry David moment when I was in the mall. I was in Aveda and the woman serving me was African-American and she was obviously listening to the ceremony on the radio. I had this overwhelming urge to say something, you know, like ‘well done’ or ‘good for you’. Fortunately I didn’t, but I did give her a bit of a benevolent and patronising smile to communicate that I know we’re all black underneath. Why am I such an awkward twat?

It was a great day. Now he just has to get on with the job. I keep thinking about Tony Blair and how excited and drunk we got after that landslide labour victory in 1997, ending decades of Conservative rule. Just don’t bugger it all up Obama.