Dallas and I were at the mall last night. We were walking off the effects of our celebratory dinner, which was capped off, for me, by warm bread pudding with ice cream and caramel. MMM. So good. I decided, in keeping with the momentum of the day, that a new interview suit was in order. We started hunting. We looked in department stores (Dallas was outraged by the $92 t-shirts we saw in Barney's), Ann Taylor, and other usual budget-friendly suit shops. Frustrated that jackets didn't want to button nicely over my rather ample bosom, I decided to check out a store that carries "women's sizes" (translation: big clothes for big women).* Not surprisingly, the smallest size they carried was perfect in the bust, but far too large in the waist. The pants, however, due to my impressive caboose, fit very nicely. The problem, however, wasn't how the clothes fit as much as how frumpy they were, and that they wanted $60-$90 for pants that I normally wouldn't pay $30 for, as they felt cheap and gapped in weird places. The ladies who worked in the shop chatted Dallas up as I tried on pants and pants and pants. Nothing was quite right (except a pair of corduroys that I was just not going to pay $80 for) and I decided not to get anything. As I was leaving, though, one of the shop girls asked me whether I would be interested in modeling some of their clothes in a fashion show next weekend. Tickled by the thought of myself as a model, even a "plus size" model, I agreed (I am under no delusions about my not-a-size-2 curves). They took my phone number, and I will be going in next week to try on my outfit and get a rundown on modeling protocol. Sounds like fun. And? Afterward I get a whole 25% off whatever I want to buy from the store. Those corduroys? They might be coming home with me.
*I eventually found a perfectly cut suit at Macy's, which is now at the tailor for a few alterations.

