I can no longer deny that I am getting old. er. Older. Shopping over the weekend, I realized that I don’t even understand clothes any more. It wasn’t even at some speciality store, wherein perhaps it might be understandable if I didn’t understand the clothes. This was at T.J. Maxx. And by “this” I mean, THIS:
No, it was not touted as a Halloween ensemble, thinking Slutty Prisoner garb. Nope, it was smack-dab in the middle of the ladies clothing selections, like it was trying to be part of the normal stuff.
Orange-barrel orange. Black lace inserts in the booby-ish area. Scrunch-up belt side things.
I did not understand it. I do not deserve the title that goes with shopping at T.J. Maxx, Maxamista. Or whatever that is.