Tricksy Trickster

I don’t know what gets into me sometimes.  I try to be good…I promise.  But I have these moments.  Moments usually brought about by random events I view as unnecessary.

Moments like having to give your phone number as you are checking out at a store; or having to fill out multiple “forms” in a single location.  I mean really.  Does the front desk NOT share information with the people in radiology?  Come on now.

And so, I stage my own form of mini-rebellions.  I tend to participate in ridiculously silly rules and procedures, but I do so erroneously.  Not in any way that would endanger my health and safety or anyone else’s, but rebel I must.

Recently, during an evening out with my BFF and favorite partner in crime, Judy.  I really didn’t intend to be flying in the face of normalcy.  But, it seems I just can't help myself.

If you know me at all, you know shopping is not my thing.  I hate trying on clothes and while you might think this was brought about by my changing body style, it is not.  I have never, let me repeat…NEVER enjoyed the whole trying on clothes event.

But, there are times when one must get naked in a strange room with unflattering light and fattening mirrors and try to find that perfect garment that will make you look 25 pounds lighter.  And so, shopping we went.

As we were wandering around the store with multiple hangars draped over our arms, we were approached by a very nice sales associate.  Relieving Judy of her burden, she informed her she would “start” a dressing room for her and asked for her name.  With Judy’s name in her ear and her prospective purchases on her arms she dashed off to place them in a room for Judy’s convenience.

And then she returned with the same offer for me.  Asking for my name, I promptly and without hesitation replied “Dolores.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Judy clap her hand over her mouth and go dashing to the front of the store, shoulders shaking.

After she had composed herself, we both availed ourselves of our assigned dressing rooms.  Sure enough, there on one door was a dry erase board bearing the name- Judy.  And another, “Delores” – please notice she misspelled my phony name.  The.Nerve.

I’ve thought about this and I can’t explain what made me do it.  But, on further reflection I’m going with this explanation.  What if someone were stalking me?  If they came in the store looking for me, they certainly aren’t going to look behind the door named “Delores.”

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  Although I think next time out Judy and I will simply be Thelma and Louise without the car crash.