Cookies and Control Top Underwear

I found myself walking around Walmart this morning, in my hands was a wad of all different kinds of Control Top Panty Hose, slimming underwear, and a package of Pepperage Farms Milano cookies, double chocolate. Did I bother to get a cart to conceal some of it? Of course not, that might actually save me embarrassment. I'm starting to think I am glutton for punishment. I sure gave the cashier a laugh when i set them all down and said, "Cookies and Control top, makes sense, right?" Her reply was, "Actually, it does." With a laugh and an understanding smile she also told me to stop my McDonald's on my way out. If she had only known the temptation I felt when I walked by it on the way in. What happened to the size 6 days? Yes, even after kids I made it back there. These days, it's a size 10, tummy tuck undies, a push up bra, and a lot of cookies. What happened to me?

I like Walmart. It is a place I feel perfectly comfortable, my own kind are there. Those who lived in their Grandma's garage and thought it was the best because they were close to their mama, those with two dads, one who cared and one who just couldn't even if he wanted to, which he probably did. Those people who were destined to be stuck in trailer parks, like it's in their veins, my kind of people. You want to know something? I hate it when people make fun of Walmart because of the people who go there. Whew, I feel better now, I've been wanting to say that for a long time. I despise it when people judge others just because they are "Walmart type folk." I imagine I must be an undercover one or it wouldn't be my very own friends who feel comfortable to say such things in my presence. I mean, they are putting down my peeps here! They are people too! I like going to Walmart because it is there that I will yell at my kids just as I do at home, instead of saying all the proper "please and thank yous" in public and then being my true self at home where no one can see my motherhood flaws. Maybe it's not so much that people who shop at Walmart are bad people, are lesser class than those who shop at say, Target. I find it refreshing being around people who are real and don't hide their true selves in public and then let it all hang out at home. I am white trash in clean clothes. I lived in a garage, I lived in the bad part of town and never noticed, I lived in a trailer park, my car trunk was my closet for years, and I've walked around barefoot with a baby on my hip. And I'm loved for being that way, so the next time you think to talk bad of Walmart people remember that they are just like you, but not hiding their bad parts. They let it all hang out and I love them for their honesty.