10 and counting.

I don't usually shop at Kohl's department store unless I am exceedingly desperate for an article of clothing, and have thoroughly searched my staple locations unsuccessfully. Not that I have anything against Kohl's-- they have convenient locations, their sales aren't bad, and I find stuff I like every once and a while-- but I just reeeaaalllyy can't shop there because their disorganization kills me. It makes me feel dizzy just walking in there. Not that I have anything against them as a corporation, but like I said, they're a desperate-measure type deal.

Anyway. I was there today, looking for shorts that would adequately cover my annoyingly long thighs. Not that I don't have them (shorts that will cover my thighs, I mean)-- I'm just tired of sporting the same 3 pairs of shorts summer after summer after summer after summer. Good shorts seem to be a rare commodity, like, always. After my (obvious) lack of success in searching for this seemingly endangered article of clothing at other stores, I trudged over to Kohl's to give it a shot. Upon entering the store, though, I had the immediate urge to sprint back out to the 98767 degree weather and make the drive home, thus accept my failure as a shopping woman. I fought the urge, and actually found some shorts that seemed promising while I browsed. I had to try them on, though-- It can never be a full commitment until the dressing room approves, of course.

So I wandered over to the dressing room area, had urges similar to the ones I felt upon arrival, but found an open room anyway, and began to try on the shorts.

"Ugh. Too short."
"Fat pant shorts?"
"What the heck are those dangly things on the pockets? How did I miss those?"
"Maybe if I took out the hem..."

After about the third or fourth pair, I began to get discouraged. I sat on the bench in the dressing room and heaved a sigh of frustration. As I sat there, I began to listen to the happenings of the other Kohl's customers in the dressing rooms around me. One conversation caught my attention. It was a female, who was just entering high school. She had her parents and a friend with her, and they were shopping for back to school clothes. The friend seemed to be acting as her fashion consultant, and her parents the modesty-generals. As she tried on one particular outfit, she walked out of the dressing room, exclaiming to her friend how much she was in love with it, even though she could barely fit the skinny jeans over her "huge thighs." (Her words, not mine.) Her friend proceeded to tell her how fantastic she looked, and how every guy would be gushing over her on the first day. As she walked out of the dressing room to get the final verdict from her parents, her mom reacted immediately.

"Absolutely not. Honey, you know that is not acceptable."
"But Mom! I love it!"
"Look at your Strength of Youth pamphlet. Do you think that this outfit would cater to the standards I KNOW you are trying to uphold?"
"But MOOOM!!!! UGHHHHH!"

As she walked back into the dressing room, she unneccessarily informed her friend of her mom's reaction.
"I don't understand why she has to go all Bible on me! Augh! She is so ANNOYING."
"Yeah, that's so annoying. Doesn't she know how great you look?"

And that's when I caught myself thinking, "It may seem annoying now, but trust me, you'll thank her later."


That was weird. That thought, I mean. For me. Not because I don't agree with the mother, but because I don't think I'm old enough to be thinking thoughts like that.






Every time I sign on to blogger, I click on all the updated blogs displayed on my dashboard. I open them all up before I start to read, and then I close them as I read them. Today I had too many tabs open in my window, though. They were tabs for photographers, and flower sites, and reception centers. I'm not planning a wedding. Not yet. But it might look that way.

And I'm okay with that. I think.

I'm thinking a lot of things.

You're probably wondering exactly what I'm thinking at this point, then. I mean, tomorrow we will be in the double digits. Lj will be home next week. After two years of being without him, he will be call-able. Speak-able. Hug-able. Boyfriend-able. This is kind of a big deal, I think.



But mostly, I just can't wait to be with him. I love the person that he is. I can't wait to just drink him up. To hear his laugh. To see him smile. He's got really pretty brown eyes. I love his eyes. He makes me laugh all the time, too. He's a great listener. He's disarming, easygoing, and funloving. I can be who I want to be when I am with him.

I can't wait for that.

And I don't have to, much.
Just 10 more days, is all.

And 2 years? Let the world know that I would do ten more if I had to. He's just that worth it.