Alone! Clutching her Tarjay gift certificate close to her bosom

Imagine if you will, JCK sauntering into Tarjay. It is a rare morning in which she can arrive at Tarjay before 8:20am. The parking is plentiful. She is full of good will toward men, most of whom are not in the building.

It is just JCK. Alone! Clutching her Tarjay gift certificate close to her bosom. All seems well with the world. Especially when she picks a cart, and HARK! the wheels move like well oiled machines. Instead of one of those carts that starts acting up about 100 yards into the store. You know that cart. n'est-ce pas?Moving close to the speed of light, because you have 1 hour to get in and out of the store, and pick up your child from preschool, when suddenly, out of nowhere, the cart STOPS on a dime, and the handle slams into your midsection. OOF! And, the blow is so powerful, that you can only squeak out a muted FUCK!!! You then lurch about like a drunken sailor, red of face, and gasping for breath...and by the time you return to the cart area, and choose another cart, you are too tired to shop. But, JCK digresses....

Let it be said that JCK is not a natural shopper. But, she feels unnaturally comfortable at Tarjay. Sadly. It is home away from home. JCK's life with two children aged 6 and 5 is almost all about practicality. Tarjay is practical, and occasionally, if JCK gets lucky, even ...dare she say it? Hip! JCK does have very strong Scottish roots. Mmmmm...perhaps that is why she is partial to a muscular rump under cotton, strong calves, and that Scottish brogue that makes JCK feel like she is lying naked on velvet...waiting.

At Christmas, JCK was lucky enough to get this cherished gift certificate, which she holds so close to her bosom, from her husband E. It was painful for him. E. To buy her a gift certificate at Tarjay. You see, E is more of a Lordstrom's kind of guy. Now, JCK has nothing against Lordstrom's. She has adored previous gifts that E bought her there. However, JCK really, really needs a few essentials, and she would rather buy 8 items at Tarjay than 1.5 items at Lordstrom's. Scottish.

Good fortune appears to continue for JCK on this beauteous day. Indeed, she is no sooner in the women's section than she begins to thrust clothing items into her cart. Blouses, jeans, je ne sais quois.... JCK believes it is vital to fill one's cart, make your way to the dressing room, and get it over with. Ahhh...yes, the dressing room. Where one changes. Harsh lighting, mirrors everywhere, it IS like waiting in the stirrups for the OB/GYN to enter. However, it must be done. Every single pair of JCK's jeans have holes. Large ones. JCK's knees play peek-a-BOOM. She has no jeans. And, JCK without jeans is akin to well... a Scotsman without his kilt. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

JCK has in hand 5 pairs of jeans. E, bless him, has been mentioning that he believes that JCK would look good in low rise, bell bottoms. JCK believes that this particular style of jeans is not for her. JCK is fully into her womanhood, and feels confident in her own ability to choose her jeans. However, just for kicks, she tries on a few pairs of low rider, bell bottom young woman's jeans. Although JCK is on the smaller side, and can fit into these young woman's jeans, the look is ...totally unacceptable. The rear not only flattens JCK's already descending derriere, but there is a poofy, pouch effect in back at the waist. Almost as if JCK is a Kangaroo in reverse. And, if JCK sits down, the back slides down so low as to reveal her....full bodied underwear. No, it will not do! So, JCK moves on. Quickly. Some shuddering is involved.

She tries on womanly jeans. Fit solutions. Slimming style. Stretch denim. No-Gap Waistband. Mid Rise. Boot Cut. They are delicious. Comfortable. Flattering. JCK gets 3. She tosses a few blouses into the shopping cart, and she is done. She soars over to the check-out, still clutching her Tarjay gift certificate to her heaving bosom. Success! She swaggers out. With change in her pocket. All is right with JCK's world. For today...

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