Wally World

One of the only secrets I've tried to keep from Coco is my deep-seated passion for Wal-Mart.  My hometown has the only Super Wal-Mart in the tri-state area.  For those of you who do not know, a Super Wal-Mart has tons of amenities like a McDonalds, a nail salon, a hair cutting place,  and is open 24/7.  The tri-state area I'm referring to, of course, is that magical intersection of Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee - here's a visual aid.  

Dora and I began fostering an unhealthy fascination with the Wal-Mart somewhere around 7th grade.  We would spend the night at the Wal-Mart.  We would sleep outside and jaw about our post-high school pipe dreams which included road-tripping across the entire country, going to concerts and visiting a Wal-Mart in all 50 states.  I swear to fucking God.  That was our big huge dream.  A cross-country tour of Wal-Marts (preferably Super Centers).  

Imagine my chagrin on my first day in Suburbia when Coco drives me past the Wal-Mart and shudders.  "I have to take a shower when I leave that place," she scoffed.  

"Oh, heh, yeah, me too... " I awkwardly replied.  

But I guess there's good reason for Coco's disgust.  The only times she has ever graced The Wal-Mart with her patronage is in pursuit of "throw-away clothes" to send off with the boys to camp.  During one such mission, Dustin and Justin kept horsing around, but in a terrible way.  So at the checkout, Coco grabbed their arms.  Now, in Suburbia, you can't even make angry eyebrows at your kids without somebody calling the police.  So when Dusty shouted out "Oh no, Mommy, please don't hit me again!!!" Coco was petrified.  She froze, awaiting the certain onslaught of concerned stares and possible Child Services personnel.  But, as she was at Wal-Mart, no one even so much as glanced over. 

So this catches us up tonight.  Well, almost.  Y'all, it's fucking freezing here.  And I have spent the last month floundering around in this cold shiz, putting on leg warmers over layers of leggings all under a big brown nanny jumper (usually accented with some stray bolt of brightly-colored fabric).  

NOW we're caught up to tonight.  After yoga I hit the Wal Mart to browse for cheap kiddo presents (I mean, shit, I've got five of them.  You have to buy in bulk.)  And then - our eyes met across the crowded aisle - a bright purple slicky coat that goes to my knees complete with faux fur hood.  All for $40.  I obviously bought that shiz.

And now I'm hiding in my basement, furiously ripping out all the tags so Coco won't tease me in the morning when I go to the bus stop in my purple Wal-Mart coat.  Oh Wal-Mart, thy beauty and fashion sense is too much for this upscale suburban world.