March 12, 1986
I put it off as long as I could but last week I finally broke down and took my son shopping for clothes. This is an experience I would not wish on my worst enemy.
Shopping with a teenager can be an aging experience. Some teens could care less what they wear. In this case you must literally drag them into the store, force them into a dressing room and view each item of clothing to make sure it actually fits. If you turn your back for one second you must make a trip into the record department to drag your offspring back.
Then there is the fussy teen who insists that each article of clothing meet his exacting standards of fit and style before he will even consent to try it on. In this case you may never leave the clothing department until they shut out the lights and lock the door.
Last week it was the second type I took shopping. (I have one of each) Before too long I had jeans over both arms and was shuffling them in and out of the dressing room door while trying to remember David’s comments on each – “this 16 is too big”, “this one’s too small”, “these feel too thin”, “these are too short”, and “Yuk”.
After an hour of this relaxing activity we finally had one pair of jeans David and I could both approve of. Quickly I suggested we buy two pair figuring to forestall the next shopping trip. But as fate would have if there was not another pair to match it in the store.
As we staggered to the cash register my eyes came to rest on my son’s feet. No question about it he is in need of new tennis shoes. Knowing his preferences on the subject I have decided his father should have the pleasure of that trip!