Hollister

Hubby and I went to Hollister to do some shopping. For me, the shop was a feast for the senses. It was nicely decorated, the lighting was muted, the music suited my taste, everything smelled nice, and gorgeous guys greeted everyone with "Hey, what's up?" It looked like an upscale sauna minus, well, the sauna. And the sex.

My partner complained the whole time. It's too dark. You can't see the clothes and how they look on you. It's too crowded. He's very much a guy when it comes to shopping. His points were valid but I was already too excited to listen. I pointed out several bear types that i suspected were gay couples, and that convinced him to stay a while longer.

I quickly grabbed whatever I could and headed to the fitting rooms. I was delighted that I was a medium size again for the first time in years, and in the insufficient lighting, I thought i looked no different to the modelesque sales men. I rang up quite a hefty bill but was pleased with my purchases.

As hubby was too busy ogling at the cute couples, he didn't get a chance to see the clothes on me in the fitting room. In any case, they don't allow pairs in the same cubicle, hmmm... When we got home, I excitedly tried each item and paraded in front of him.

Under normal lighting, i didn't look as hot as the Hollister employees. I should have listened when Hubby told me more than just a few times that clothes should fit me and not the other way around. I pouted in disappointment and started fidgeting with the tight sleeves and torso.

My better half knew how much i was looking forward to buying the shirts, so he remarked how the cut and color hid my girth while emphasizing my arms and chest. His encouragement brought me back to the tasteful decor, muted lighting, hip music, and fragrant environment. With a slight nod of my head and the thickest American accent I could muster, I gave it a go.

"Hey, what's up?"


photo from fashionsnap.com