Clothes shopping with teenage boys

Today's tidbit of wisdom: Good looks and thinness are wasted on the young.

I took the boys to Old Navy last night. I usually enjoy taking the boys clothes shopping, because they always look good in whatever they try on. Shopping for myself, however, is depressing, because no matter what I try on, I still look fat and old. I had high hopes for this trip, too. Last year we were able to buy all the summer clothes for the boys in just one trip to Old Navy. I figured that with a little luck, we could do the same thing this year.

The boys were not cooperating this year, though. Mark decided that he wasn't buying anything until he had a chance to shop at Saver's, the local second hand clothing store. I tried to convince him that it was OK to buy a couple of things new, but he was having none of it. I suggested some particularly fashionable selections, and all he did was complain about the prices. Wake up, kid! That's MY job. You're the one who is supposed to be begging me to spend money on you. Matt finally talked Mark into buying something from the deep discount rack by promising Mark that he would wear it occasionally, too. Oh, and Mark did pick out two pairs of flip-flops (2 pairs for $5) to wear for lifeguarding.

Matt refused to buy any shorts because they all flared out a little at the knee. There was no way he was going to be caught wearing shorts that didn't fit tightly and go straight down his legs. He also refused to buy any shirts that weren't at least a size too small for him. After all, what's the point of working out if you can't wear shirts that display every muscle in your shoulders, chest and back? Josh and I started making fun of his need to show off his boobs, but even that didn't cause him to change his mind. And even more frustrating was that he wouldn't even try on some cool shorts with fish skeletons on them, despite his frequent admissions that I pick out the coolest clothes for him. If I was young and skinny, I would have bought a pair for myself.

Then there was dear ol' Josh, the kid who couldn't even tell me what color of T-shirt he liked. And when I asked him what kind of shorts he was interested in, he told me that he wanted some that were "just like" the pair of painter jeans (long pants, not shorts) he was wearing. When I began showing him the various styles of shorts he could choose from, however, he quickly ruled out any type of jean shorts, cargo shorts, or canvas painter shorts, despite the fact that these were the closest styles to what he was wearing. It became very apparent that "just like" didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to me. I gave up trying to interpret his teenage-ese and just grabbed one of everything in his size. He decided that he wanted the cargo shorts that didn't fit him and that would likely slide right off his butt if he put so much as a dime in one pocket. He wouldn't consider wearing a belt, so I vetoed that pair. Then he vetoed the one pair that fit. I guess we'll call it a draw.

I tried to look at the bright side as we left the store. I had saved a lot of money. I had the flip-flop situation for my oldest under control. My weight lifter would be able to model his sculpted bosom. And my youngest child wouldn't have to wear shorts that fit him. It may be the closest thing I get to a victory this summer.