Right on Target

When we come together with someone in a romantic partnership it's easy to be lulled into thinking that you've chosen one person, an individual. Of course, mostly they come with their family in tow, one way or another.

Last night I was out shopping with my mother-in-law. Nothing exciting, just off to Target to take advantage of a sale that I hoped might provide a new pair of pants for me for summer.

Since pregnancy I've put on a few kilos. Nothing huge, just enough that a lot of my pre-pregnancy clothes aren't an option any longer. Clearly, mother-in-law has noticed. We enter the store and I head for the women's clothes, whereas mother-in-law turns for the "plus size" section. Oh, she says. Aren't you going to look at the large clothing?
No, I say, the regular ones are just fine.
Oh. Meaningful silence. Are you sure?

So — in the regular-sized clothing — I find some pants to try on, and walk over to the fitting room. They're not quite right, so I head out again to look for something better.

No good?
No, I'm going to try a different size.
Well, let's head over to the large section, as if I've finally seen sense.
Actually, those were too big. I'm after the next size down.
Incredulous: Really?!
Ignore.

Decide on a pair after another fitting. Make general complaint about cuts of pants currently on the market. Well, are you sure you don't want to look in the large section? You might have more options over there, you know.
Think to self, Oh for fuck's sake!!

To put it into perspective, the pants I bought were a size 12, so hardly in the realm of a circus tent. Thanks, mother-in-law. You're pure gold.