I woke up this morning with butterflies in my stomach and, I'm certain, a light rosy glow on my cheeks. I believe I even smiled while I was brushing my teeth, which would explain why I was seen walking the dog with that telltale stain on my shirt.
I have a glow.
A real glow.
I just got the sweetest waders.
Waders. Like the tall rubber looking pants with suspenders that you wear when you want to stand in the middle of a river when there's no shore or you're trying to fish for fish rather than the bushes behind you. (I can catch ANY bush in Northern California. That is how good I am.)
Oh yes, people, I am basking in Post-Extravagant Purchase Glow.
Don't tell me you thought I meant that other glow. Because that would be ridiculous. Simms doesn't make maternity waders.
Tip: For you women who feel you're not getting the proper amount of attention at the usual shopping holes, go to a fly fishing shop and tell them you want to try on waders. And then prepare yourself for the most ravishing level of attention received outside of a Maserati dealership.
I sauntered into the fly shop yesterday wearing my finest ratty post-work attire. Nothing says "Fit me for some waders" like a wife beater, dirty flip flops and rolled up cargo pants. HOT. It took approximately 6.2 seconds for their most boisterous and strapping lad to come bounding over to the waders section to ask me what I was looking for in that "what does your husband want for his birthday" kind of way.
I can say right now that there are only a few times I've seen a man's face light up like this kid's did when I said, "Oh, I think the time has come for me to finally get some waders."
When I mentioned I would also need boots...and some dry flies - caddis mostly...oh, and a couple packs of leaders, he happily called over the other two dudes working in the store to help. Before long I had all the attention and expertise I could possibly ask for and was getting talked into only the finest in women's fly fishing gear.
Seriously, have never heard a man speak at such length and with such endless enthusiasm about women's attire. Granted, it's sports attire, but still. The excitement was palpable. And contagious - I went from shopping for basic waders to making grabby hands at the Top of the Line waders like they were the big lollipop in the candy store.
It was bound to happen. There I was, only the fourth woman this year to come into their store (they told me so) not shopping for my male counterpart and I wanted to talk Gore-tex, felt vs rubber soles and stockingfeet. There was no way I was getting out of there without some sweet, made just for women, gear. Because these are dudes in a fly shop who typically only sell to other dudes and from what I'm told, its not nearly as interesting as selling to a woman with clean hair and without a potbelly or size 14 feet.
Plus, nothing gets my credit card hopping like being told that I'm small, my feet are small, everything they normally carry is way too big for my small lady frame and that I'm a fabulously tiny and interesting outcast of a creature in their big smelly dude fishing land.
YOU just try to say no to the man when he opens the catalogue to check sizing and has to scroll all the way to the top of the well-worn measurement table to the part that has never been touched by man to find your teensy girl size and then hear him say,
"Whew! I thought we might not have a size small enough - but it looks like this one here at the tippy top should be just right."
I won't lie, it was great.
Because in normal shopping land I'm your run-of-the-mill not big, not small chick who really wishes she was confidently pulling size 2 shorts from the front of the rack instead of hunting for the last 8 in the middle of the rack and hoping she didn't eat too much for lunch.
And so, I prefer to think that I allowed myself to be wooed into high-end fishing gear because I really wanted it anyway and would have chosen it even if I weren't being courted through the shop like it was prom night, so I'd appreciate it if you just agreed and stopped looking at me like that.
Sadly, the only drawback to being just the fourth woman to appear in an otherwise all-dudes fly shop is that the stuff you now want so badly (because it will be only the best for me, Tiny Fly Fisherchick) isn't regularly stocked and has to be ordered. Which takes time and patience, two things I keep putting on my wish list but never end up in the stocking.
Delayed fishing gratification. You think I'd be getting used to all the waiting since, for me anyway, fishing is the embodiment of delayed gratification. I say I'm "practicing my cast" but mostly I'm just waiting for the fish to give up and take my fly.
Perhaps in my new hot special small lady digs my flies will somehow become irresistible to the fish and I'll be able to go back to the fly shop with some good stories.
Imagine the kind of service I'd get then!
I better bring Bubba to hold my credit card lest I get talked into buying a boat or something.