Ms. C looked, as always, like a million bucks. Fresh from church, she wore matching hat, bag, and heels, her suit a resplendent royal blue. She hailed me in the produce department.
“Ms. C, you look fabulous,” I enthused after a hug.
“And you, Doc,” she began, her eyes sweeping down over sweatshirt and pants. “You look...comfortable.”
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Oh, dear - I feel your pain. Whenever I'm in my small hometown, I always get caught looking horrible in the grocery store by some stunning, six foot blonde I went to high school with.
There's a lot to be said for comfortable, though.
:)
I go for the comfortable, too.
Post a Comment