Excuse me, but do you have this in MY size?

On Saturday, Harry and I decided to go car shopping - again.

We drove down to C&O motors, hair flying in the wind with the top down on Harry's conspicuous corvette.

                                                          

I spy a brand new, 2006 triple black ZO6 and my jaw hits the dirty pavement. Not twenty minutes later, we're wedged (literally) into the car and zipping down Route 60. Harry pulls into a lot and jumps out:

"Wanna drive?"

"Ah, hell yeah!" I roar without an ounce of femininity and jump into the driver's seat. He closes my door and I wiggle, adjust, wiggle some more and start hitting buttons and gizmos and levers until my already sunburnt face is purple with frustration.

"I don't like this! I can't move my legs! I feel smushed! And these seats are NOT fat butt friendly!" I whine and then pop out of the seat.

"Get back in! At least you can say you drove one!"

His logic makes sense to my deep-fried brains and I agree. I take a cleansing breath, gather up my overflowing thighs and daintily step back into the $60,000 machine. I pull out of the parking lot and make it to 50 mph in about a second and a half (and that's only 'cause I freaked a bit, applied the brake and then, realizing what I did, slammed on the gas again) and tore down the highway.

When we arrived back at the dealer there was the salesman looking like Billy Bob Thorton's doppleganger in a big white truckers hat and a cigarette dangling precariously close to Harry's baby.

And I don't mean me.

"Well," he drawled, "whattayathink?"

"She didn't like it." Harry blamed me. And even though I 'bout ripped off the rearview and beat him with it for placing me in the spotlight I knew it was for the best and nodded meekly.

"Well-" The guy looked like he'd choked on his Marlboro.

Later, on the drive home Harry looked at me with pride and joy: "You know - you've really matured since we first got together, you know that?"

"I don't get it." I said.

"Well, most people would've jumped at the chance to get a new Corvette, but you said that it wasn't right for you. Very mature."

"Oh." I held up a hand to shield the sun from my eyes. "I'm not really sure if having a gargantuan sized ass that won't fit into the seats counts as 'mature,' but I'll take it all the same!"

He laughed and wisely said nothing.

 

Update:  We're still buying the white one - but we wanted to explore all options - and - well- I wanted to drive a new one!