What can YOU say in six sentences?
I have let Marti convince me this is a good idea, and so she leads me through aisles of women’s clothing in a store the size of a cow pasture. I am unable to focus on any one thing because so many other things are vying for my attention, as if skirts or pants could clamor.
I am no good at shopping -- a traitor to my gender, I suppose -- but I try to act normal, and I mimic the expressions of other shoppers: thoughtful, eager, decisive or blasé.
I escape into a circular rack of dresses, pressing my way to the interior where they form a cave around me, and I inhale the scents left behind by other shoppers who have tried them on.
I rub my face lightly against the fabrics, some silky, others cottony, discerning faint musky traces of perspiration, vanilla, and Obsession.
I only emerge (feeling a little turned on) when I hear Marti calling my name, and I let myself be led to our next destination, a hideous, phobia-inducing shoe emporium.