I am a person of Walmart

Keep your lips tightly closed if you find yourself on the verge of snarky muttering, may be great advice, but we all can't abide by that rule. The same goes for snapping shots of those people who do not own a mirror. As my friend, Jenny, a plus size woman, once reported, she accosted another full figured gal in a public restroom, and asked, "What exactly were you thinking when you got dressed today?"

In the same way that ethnic, or religious groups can joke amongst themselves, without fear of a fist to the jaw,  a member of a group, People of Walmart, for instance, are also immune to repercussion. Be warned that I may now post embarrassing photos of friends and family. BECAUSE,

I am a person of Walmart. 

The fact that you will not find my picture on the website, does not preclude me from being part of  the in crowd, freak crowd, or whatever that interesting group of folks may be labeled. I might not have been photographed the day that I hit the store dressed as a pornographic pumpkin, but trust me, being that the month was July, and not October, it went beyond cute.

This is me wearing the my pumpkin dress. Note the tank worn underneath, so as not to look like a Halloween flasher. Yes, I realize that orange, worn outside of Clemson tailgaters is not a pretty sight on pale brunettes, but it was either pumpkin or snowman, when I bought the dress.

What was I thinking?

Oh, look, a comfy dress to wear all summer, and the base of a Halloween costume come fall. I must scoop this up before other women steal the idea, and the entire neighborhood greets trick-or-treaters clad in bright orange, with a green beanie on their heads.
Yes, it must have been something along those lines, because never before have I worn orange.

It gets worse.

In the quest to brown more of my skin, I hit the beach for a walk with a friend. Did I wear a tank underneath? No, no, no, as that would have covered a few inches of flesh, thus preventing tanning. As we stroll, I tug more than a few times to cover my bra, the strapless variety, which as any woman will tell you, was invented to annoy, but for the most part, the walk is unremarkable.

Can we run to Walmart?

Upon hearing those words, an alarm should have sounded, telling me that sweating in a car would be less of a punishment than stares. Silly me bounds from the vehicle, boobs popping out of the dress, and grabs a cart. I concentrate on the shelves, pretending that someone may or may not be taking my picture. The teenage boys that point and giggle, well, they are just wishing their moms...oh, never mind. It was bad.
   
Rit to the Rescue

The humiliation was too much to bear, but not enough to part with the dress. Pumpkin might not be my style, but grape could be. Grapes are cute. Just think of the California Raisins. Did you ever see a dancing pumpkin? And, of course, I drink wine a lot more often than I eat pumpkin pie. No, that was not the reason for the initial dress purchase. I shop sober, really, I do.

A quick bath in dye, left my dress transformed.
If waiting until spring for my grape debut on the beach, is too far off for you, I can be found on You Tube performing as a raisin.