The Husband and I have both lost some weight in recent months and this weekend was the time to buy new belts. I hadn't bought a belt for about 4 years and my favourite belt was way too big on the tightest setting. Almost 50 pounds off over 2 years will do that. Off we went to find new belts. We cruised into Target and the Husband had his new belt in his hand after about 3 minutes of searching. I think it took him longer to find the belt section than to find a belt on the rack. Did I find my Perfect Cool Belt? Of course not. I had a vision of one in mind that I couldn't shake.
We were at our local Goodwill a few weeks back when I spotted a girl wearing a funky belt. I smiled at her and commented that I thought it was a Cool Belt but she just sneered back at me. I was a tad miffed and certainly taken aback so I didn't bother to ask her where she got it. It had been eating at me and I'd become obsessed with finding one. I had no idea what to call it, how to describe it or even key words to come up with for a search. I'd browsed through almost every belt on eBay (upwards of 5000 gallery photos), I'd checked through all my favourite hip online boutiques, I combed through craftster for DIY ideas. Nothing.
Perturbed that the Husband found his belt so quickly and determined not to be defeated by the mighty interweb, today was the day to FIND THE BELT. Google. Enter lame search term 'cool belt.' hmmm. Nope. Refine it a little. "women's cool belt" Are you kidding me? THERE! 2nd search hit. That could be it!
Available at Kohl's. Go figure. I ran out to the local Kohl's (I'd never been to one before) and immediately picked out my belt. Unfortunately, there was a giant line to pay. When the 2nd cashier finally opened her till, she didn't take the next person in line or the person behind her (me), she took the person who had just walked into line and hadn't been standing there for 10 minutes. grrr. I switched lines anyway and brought up my Cool Belt.
"May I have your Zip Code to complete the purchase?"
"What? what was that?"
"It's Canadian. Vee-6-Zed 2-Vee-9"
"Uh, ok? I don't think I can enter that. Um, Mary? This girl gave me a zip code in Canadian and I don't know what to do"
Meanwhile the Texas granny behind me in line asked me to repeat it. "HWhat did you just say? Say that last part again, dear. Vee-6-hwhat?" (You know those folks who pronounce 'what' with an 'h' at the beginning)
I just smiled sweetly and said, "Zed. The last letter of the alphabet. We don't say zee, we say zed. Y'all have a nice day!" I took my Cool Belt and split. I can be such a passive aggressive jerk sometimes. It's the Canadian in me.