The Education of Courtney P. Part 2

Small post for today. My hunger pangs are taking over my sense of rational thought, and I’d like to make this entry as short and sweet as possible.

Last night I went to Kohl’s (who’s surprised?) because one of my few “I’m a big girl now!” work shirts bled all over itself in the washing machine. I followed the instructions on the tag EXACTLY, but it still came out looking like there were spider webs of pink dye everywhere. I wasn’t pleased. I loved this sweater with the ruffle sleeves; it looks great with just about anything! Adding insult to injury, this particular sweater is the second of its kind I’ve purchased from Kohl’s, because the first one did the same exact thing! Fool me once …

So I took the sweater back to Kohl’s, ready to engage in battle over returning it. The cashier asked me if I might want to go grab a replacement on the rack. Are you kidding me? I shall not be made a fool THREE times. I politely declined and asked that she kindly just give me a store credit. But of course, since I don’t have the tag or receipt (I naively believed there wouldn’t be any problems, so I threw them away. I also believe in leprechauns and unicorns!), so she looked up the tag number and gave me a credit for however much the item cost at that exact moment.


I’m pretty sure I paid $25 for it the first time.

Fuming at no one in particular, I took my store credit and escorted myself to the juniors clearance rack, hoping I could find some cheapo garment that could take the sweater’s place in my modest work wardrobe. However, unless I wanted something with a thousand rhinestones or a pattern that resembled an acid trip, it looked like I was S.O.L. here.

Feeling sorry for myself, I pulled the first semi-casual dress off the rack. It was kinda ugly, but it was only $9.20. “I’ll take anything at this point”, I said to myself, eyeing the pleats of the skirt suspiciously. Then I started to peruse through the capri pants because thinking about my thunder thighs was just the thing to put me in a better mood (boo!). While I was contemplating starving myself, a little girl came darting out the dressing room and right up to me. She couldn’t have been anymore than 10 years old, wearing black rimmed glassed, a bright pink t-shirt, and flared jeans with flowers stitched on the pockets …

… and she didn’t have a trace of hair on her head. She didn’t even have eyebrows. She was a tall, beautiful little girl and my heart sank with visions of chemo and overnight stays in the hospital.

Her appearance startled me at first, and I felt bad. I wasn’t expecting my gaze to fall on a perfectly smooth head of tanned skin. If my eyes widened or if I did a double-take, she didn’t notice. She ran her fingers over the skirt of the dress I was holding and asked, “Do you know where all the dresses like this are?” I pointed in her the right direction, and she skipped away, yelling “Thank you!” behind her. A few minutes later I was still searching the in the junior’s department when she ran by me again. It was at that moment I realized this little girl was incapable of just walking; she bounced on her toes like a ballerina. As she passed me, she looked up at me and smiled saying, “Thanks again!”

It was at that moment I stopped feeling sorry for myself.


  1. Yep that would just about kill the pity party. I've actually been thinking about moments like this a lot lately, mostly because I am working at camp again and the stories you hear and the people you encounter tend to be a constant reminder of how little my life and problems matter. Still sorry about your sweater, but did want to let you know that of course unicorns are real - they are just extinct.


Post a Comment