Later that afternoon as the women arrived with bags in hand, my wife seemed quite pleased with her purchases. She started small, warming me up with little outfits for the baby, complete with various animals on the butt of the outfit, ducks, raccoons and countless other harmless creatures. My Aunt had bought little booties and bibs for the baby and I couldn’t help but to smile at these cute little get ups. My joy was short lived.
She bent down, digging into an industrial strength bag that was stretched to the limit with what looked like enough material to clothe a small village.
“I bought a few things so I would have something to wear.” She said, as if she had been getting by wearing a toga.
One after another, she pulled out long, loose fitting shirts that she will eventually grow into. Other sexy items included jeans with large stretchy waistlines and pants with elastic. It became quickly obvious that buttons were the enemy and comfort at a premium. I put on a smile, happy that she was happy, but started noticing the price tags dangling from the atrocities she held up. $39.99 here, $ 29.99 there, and it didn’t stop. There were purple ones, striped ones, teal, white, more tops! How much did she spend? I took a sip of the suddenly medicinal beverage my older and much wiser Uncle had provided.