Dress for the Job You Want

When I go grocery shopping, I usually choose the store based on my morning appearance.  If I am showered and wearing something somewhat acceptable, I will go to Meijer or some other normal grocer.  But on a day like today, when I am wearing old sweats and a tattered t-shirt,  with no desire to change and my hair looks frazzled like an explosion, Wal-Mart seems to be the clearest choice.  I blend in there.  No one asks me if I am using food stamps to pay, and no children run away crying after I make eye contact.  

Today is the first day of Linda the-impulse-buy-kitten's diet.  She has become a statistic.  Childhood (or kittenhood) obesity can last a lifetime.  I am hiring a personal trainer for her.

Eli has recently been very interested in the rotisserie chicken at the grocery stores.  He points them out and always asks what they are doing.  My answer is always the same - "going for a ride in the oven".  But today after looking at them for a minute came this worried question, "Mommy!  Where are their heads?"  

I thought about giving him an education on the process by which the chicken is beheaded all the way to when it gets to the grocery store but instead I said this, "They are all hiding their heads because they are scared of the grocery store".  

Eli replied with, "I better call them so they don't have to be scared.  CHICKENS!  CHICKENS!"  After several rounds of this he looked worried and said, "They can't hear me."  

For some reason I thought it was funny that he was calling loudly to the chickens and I decided not really to tell him to be quiet.  Yes, judge me all you want for having the unruly kid at Wal-Mart.  I had a role I felt I needed to fulfill to match my appearance.