I’ve seen women with cute metal bangle bracelets and wished I had some. That pony tail holder is just not so chic.
Problem: I have larger hands than most, apparently. Freakishly large, perhaps. I don’t really want to know. Bangle bracelets don’t even begin to fit over them. (Onto my ever so petite wrists, you know.) So the other day I was in a nice clothing store with only one child. (You don’t go into these stores with more than that. They look at you with looks of horror and all but encourage you to shop elsewhere.) They had a set of bracelets that looked slightly larger than most. They must have been, because, with only slight coaxing, I got them on.
And then. Tag attached, I couldn’t. Get. Them. Off. Salesladies are hovering, and I’m attempting to discreetly yank the set off my hand without mangling their perfectly round shape. Pull. Yank. Do not, I repeat, not, jump up and down, despite the urges to try what my children do when they cannot get something off. Cringe, ever so daintily, at the sales lady, who is now watching smugly while removing the top two layers of skin on wrist.
Whew. Got it. No blood, we’re good.
We won’t be back in that store any time soon.