Thank Goddess for Target

At least the one I've taken to shopping at outside of Birmingham.  They not only have a family rest room, but family fitting rooms, which means that in a state notoriously fussy about mixing genders, I don't have to try on clothes in a single-gendered women's fitting room.  I say this because although it is not illegal to crossdress in Alabama, I'm not so sure about using restrooms of the opposite biological sex.  And finding out whether or not it is against the law is not as easy as it sounds: the statutes in every state vary from city to city, jurisdiction to jurisdiction, and county to county.

The top that was not

So again I say "Thank Goddess for Target," for it has bestowed upon me a great boon.  It has enabled me to do something that I've wanted to do for a long time: actually shop for clothes and not have to take a wild guess as to whether they fit.  I sashayed right in and, after checking my makeup in that family rest room, I chose a top from the (pitiful) selection of plus sized items and TRIED IT ON!  And then -- be still my beating heart -- I tried on a pair of boots.  (For the record, the boots fit, the top didn't.)

For those of you who haven't done this yet, or those for whom it is old hat, it may be difficult to imagine, or remember, how freeing this is.  I was so excited that I snapped a typically crappy picture in the mirror, just to prove I did it.  I apologize for posting it here, but what the heck.  Vanity thy name is t-girl.

Now if I can just keep from taking such horrendous pictures.