Women Are from Nordstrom, Men Are from Sears
Unlike her nearly perfect husband, Mrs. Lefty does not worry about making mistakes. This is generally a good thing. She is free to try new things--such as watching an episode of 30 Rock, even though she’s never seen the show before--without taking weeks and months to consider the possible pitfalls of such a bold new step. (For example, what if I don’t like it and thus waste a half hour of my life? Or, what if the commercials are sucky?)
Her lack of fear in these matters also means that most of my clothes don’t fit well. It takes me a looooong time to buy clothes. From the time the idea first pops into my head ("Gee, Old Greeny Pants sure are getting old. And the button has been missing for months. Perhaps I should get a new pair."), to the time that particular article of clothing finally disintegrates (See here.), forcing me to buy that item of clothing, a period of 3, 4, or even 5 years may elapse.
Mrs. Lefty has a different sort of brain. She’ll be out shopping, perhaps for toilet paper or a ruled notebook or a new set of silver, and she’ll spy a pair of pants out of the corner of her eye. Before the thought has even finished forming itself in her mind--"Lefty needs a new pair of pants"--she will have pulled them off the rack, put them into the cart, and finished purchasing not only the pants but about $500 of additional merchandise as well. Therefore, my wife has bought most of the clothes I own.
The good news is that I will have new pants that I desperately need. The not-so-good news is that those pants will not fit properly. Usually, they are way too big. Monstrously large.
You remember how when you were younger, and you found a pair of grandma’s underpants, you’d take them to school and stretch them out so the entire 3rd grade could fit inside? That’s how large my wife thinks I am.
A good example is the last time my wife bought a white dress shirt. The collar was so oversized that I had to connect three neckties together to get around it. The arms were so long that when I wore my suit jacket, it appeared as if the shirt was a hand-me-down from my older brother Yao Ming.
This is why, when it was time for me to get a new dress shirt last week, I went on the offensive. I did the only thing I know that would ensure a good fit--I tried the damn thing on.
When I brought my prize home, Mrs. Lefty said, “That’s too small.”
“Hah!” I thought to myself. “That’s what you think.”
Let me say, in my defense, that I knew the shirt was 100% cotton, and I knew it would shrink. That’s why I bought it a little larger than usual.
Mrs. Lefty made me wash the shirt, and because I am a completely obedient man, I did. The next morning, I put on the shirt and...too small. That’ll teach me ever to buy new clothes again.
Don’t you hate it when she’s right?
Her lack of fear in these matters also means that most of my clothes don’t fit well. It takes me a looooong time to buy clothes. From the time the idea first pops into my head ("Gee, Old Greeny Pants sure are getting old. And the button has been missing for months. Perhaps I should get a new pair."), to the time that particular article of clothing finally disintegrates (See here.), forcing me to buy that item of clothing, a period of 3, 4, or even 5 years may elapse.
Mrs. Lefty has a different sort of brain. She’ll be out shopping, perhaps for toilet paper or a ruled notebook or a new set of silver, and she’ll spy a pair of pants out of the corner of her eye. Before the thought has even finished forming itself in her mind--"Lefty needs a new pair of pants"--she will have pulled them off the rack, put them into the cart, and finished purchasing not only the pants but about $500 of additional merchandise as well. Therefore, my wife has bought most of the clothes I own.
The good news is that I will have new pants that I desperately need. The not-so-good news is that those pants will not fit properly. Usually, they are way too big. Monstrously large.
You remember how when you were younger, and you found a pair of grandma’s underpants, you’d take them to school and stretch them out so the entire 3rd grade could fit inside? That’s how large my wife thinks I am.
A good example is the last time my wife bought a white dress shirt. The collar was so oversized that I had to connect three neckties together to get around it. The arms were so long that when I wore my suit jacket, it appeared as if the shirt was a hand-me-down from my older brother Yao Ming.
This is why, when it was time for me to get a new dress shirt last week, I went on the offensive. I did the only thing I know that would ensure a good fit--I tried the damn thing on.
When I brought my prize home, Mrs. Lefty said, “That’s too small.”
“Hah!” I thought to myself. “That’s what you think.”
Let me say, in my defense, that I knew the shirt was 100% cotton, and I knew it would shrink. That’s why I bought it a little larger than usual.
Mrs. Lefty made me wash the shirt, and because I am a completely obedient man, I did. The next morning, I put on the shirt and...too small. That’ll teach me ever to buy new clothes again.
Don’t you hate it when she’s right?
posted by Lefty at 12:00 PM
12 Comments:
I am not near as talented as Mrs. Lefty. I buy clothes for my husband and they really ARE too small. He takes it as a back handed compliment.
Even if it fits, he usually hates the style, the color, the material. I don't buy clothes for him.
But then, it's kind of unfair, since I am forced to wear the lingerie that he buys me.
And it's usually too small. What's that all about?
She must have the shopping gene :-p
Hoop and I always argue about his shirt size. I buy them too big for him. He buys them too small. He would rather stretch it out each time he wears it than just wash it until it shrinks down. It the difference in men and women's brains. Sometimes I think we're completely different species. Like zebras and horses. They can mate. But there's no way you'd call them the same animal.
there has to be a happy medium!
at least you tried, right?
the title of this post cracked me up.
jen mck--The lingerie probably just seems small to you; I'm sure he knows what he's doing
bre--the spending gene, at least
tink--which are the horses and which are the zebras?
siz--actually, I think I'm gonna have to try again; otherwise I must walk around with a permanently purple face.
You picked Sears because of the tool department, didn't you?
Admit it. Your middle name is Craftsman.
Well I must be from Sears since I never set foot in a Nordstrom store before, and I have quite a big nice array of tools that I like adding to every once in a while.
And even though I don't go clothes shopping often , I'm real good at finding clothes that fit me (or other people) just by looking at the clothes and the person.
The girls are the zebras. Duh. ;)
The title of this one made me laugh. And yes it is a total shame when they (wives) are right. Hang in there brother.
swf--that's right: Leftysnickets Craftsman Copperbottom.
xbox--maybe you could give Mrs. Lefty some lessons in buying clothes that fit.
tink--I'm not so sure. Zebras are larger and stouter and more rough around the edges. Horses are more refined and civilized.
g-man--FINALLY I've got an ally around here! More power to the Man!
How does anyone end up at WalMart???
Reasons Why Women Are Zebras:
(In list form, just for you.)
1. Zebras are prettier.
2. Zebras, unlike horses, cannot be broken.
3. I have no supporting data to back up #2, leading me to believe I knew instinctively. More proof that women are Zebras.
4. Um... Because I said so?
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