Belted

I pulled into the parking lot of the gigantoplex shopping centre. It has everything in it. Cinemas, small countries, you name it, it was there.

As a result, I despise the place for being a soulless big bastard of an air hangar.

The good lady waved goodbye and went off with the kids. She was going to meet lots of other mummies to see Coco, the new Pixar movie.

Having a distinct lack of milk-producing squeakers or even a lady garden. I was banned and had to entertain myself for a few hours before picking them up.

I mooched along past row after row of identical neon dressed shops. Perhaps I would get a coffee, yes. I definitely would. I turned on my heel and headed for a little coffee shop in the middle of the place that is actually quite nice.

I noticed some poor tit out the corner of my eye in one of the many reflective surfaces. Some downtrodden looking guy, rumpled clothes and hair going all silvery. Pah. I snorted. Bet he was a fresh Dad, you could tell by the state of him.

Then I paused.

Yeah, of course, it was me. I had caught a side-on view of myself in the mirror and I looked like a polar bear had shagged me inside out and then the seals had had a go at my carcass.

What the heck? I realised in that instant that I had not gotten over the sleep deprivation from having a newborn. Instead, I had gotten so used to being sleep deprived that I was now a shambling unkempt zombie. Just like every other Dad I saw.

Bollocks to that. I decided to sort myself out, toot-sweet. Spying a decent clothes shop I headed straight in.

The place had loads of good stuff. To begin with, I picked out some new jeans and a couple of t-shirts. I spied the changing room and took them over.

A perky trendy young lass grinned at me with teeth so blindingly white for a minute I panicked and thought I was dying. She gave me a plastic thing with a big number on it and pointed at some empty curtain covered changing rooms.

I entered one and quickly wheeked off my jeans and t-shirt and pulled on the new stuff. It doesn't pay to stand about with your flesh exposed in these little downlit mirrored rooms for too long. It plays havoc with your self-esteem.

I was just getting the jeans up to mid thigh when the curtain to the little room was whooshed open.

Standing there was was a woman with a wry grin on her face and a leather belt in her hands.

I squealed like a young girl and hastily pulled my jeans all the way up.

She stepped in and pulled the curtain closed.

No need to be shy!

She laughed before grabbing my waist and pulling me close so she could thread the belt around my waist. In no time at all, she had it on and buckled tight.

She stepped back and smirked.

Great jeans and with that belt, wow!

She let out a low whistle before grabbing my shoulders and roughly turning me to face one of the mirrors.

Don't you look amazing with that belt on those jeans?

I attempted to squeak something. Nothing came out. My brain was struggling to process what was going on. On the one hand I felt that I should voice some outrage about my privacy being invaded. On the other hand my teenage brain was screaming SEXY LADY WITH A BELT SHOVING YOU ABOUT!!!

She turned me sideways and eyed me approvingly.

Incredible. Do you want to take the belt?

I cleared the frog from my throat.

Errm, how much is it?

Fifteen quid darlin, that's alright I take it?

She said, in a voice that implied that the kind of man who couldn't afford a fifteen quid belt was the kind of man she would shit on and not in a good way.

Yeah, cool. Totally cool.

She smiled and winked ferociously before flouncing out.

I stood for a moment, did all that really just happen? Well, yes. Yes it did. I had the feeling I should be outraged but instead, I thought.

Maybe I will come back next week for another pair of jeans...