"Frump Girl."

I frequently find myself thinking of that scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, when Toula mentions her "frump girl" phase to Ian. She is referring to most of her entire life. I feel her pain. Like, the other day when we decided to take the boys to Kohl's. I was wearing some ugly T shirt, and a pair of khakis I've had for years, and feeling like a mighty frump girl myself. James suggested I buy some new clothes while we are at Kohl's. Usually, the boys interfere quite devastatingly with clothes shopping, but this time James kept them occupied in the toy aisle. We left the store a little while later in search of dinner. We decided on Uno, and I told James I was debating on changing into a new outfit in the bathroom. He suggested just changing quickly in the car. I tried to play a little game I like to call "Mirror mirror on the wall, which choice is most ghetto of all?" I pictured myself walking in and changing in the bathroom. Awkward, ghetto. Same thing for the car. Same thing for wearing said t shirt and khaki's. Once we pulled into the parking lot, I realized it was extremely dead. I changed my mind and decided that changing in the car was a fairly safe alternative. In the past, when I have done such costume changes, I've always screwed myself over trying to do it slowly, delicately, discretely. This time I decided to just do it quickly. As soon as I whipped my shirt off, a girl appeared out of nowhere. She of course owned the car next to mine. She stared right at me as I helplessly threw my t shirt back over the front of me. She wasn't leaving the restaurant; she just spent 3 minutes looking for something in her car before going back inside. I suspect she wanted to find her digital camera to take a picture for failblog. Anyway, she finally left (picture 3 minutes of sitting awkwardly in your car with your shirt hastily thrown over the front of you). Once I was decently covered, my first order of business was to send James a text. "WORST IDEA EVER."