A Trek To The Unholy Land Of Hideous Muumuus

I had a crazy camping meltdown back in July. Shocking, but true. Two weeks in a pop up camper without tv or internet will do that to a girl.

We were in Maine, having a grand old time. Only problem? The bathhouse was waaaaay far away from the camper. And I was getting weirded out walking there in my pjs due to some of the cro magnon tent campers who opened their beer bottles and cans of corned beef hash with their teeth as they eyed us wimmin folk (me and my two young daughters) on our way to the bathhouse.
 
So my fevered camping brain decided my best defense was a truly hideous muumuu. Because, really, what other defense is there? Nothing trumps hideous muumuu.

The man, reading the crazy in my eye, correctly chose to take me looking for one. Five stores and three hours later, the family tromped into Walmart. Now, I'm desperate beyond all comprehension if I'm willing to walk into a Walmart in the first place. On principle I refuse to shop there and contribute to the decline of Western civilization.

The Urchins are about to become unglued, The Man has that determined manly "I-will-fix-this-if-it-kills-me" crazed glint in his eyes, and I, who despises shopping, am ready for the loony bin.

Then, I see them. And, they're indescribably hideous.

The horror!!

Look at the varied selection behind these two winners.

This one has a zipper opening for easy on and off. Umm, off, please.

I mean, Mrs. Roper's muumuus had nothing on these. Faced with their hideousness, I just...couldn't pull the trigger. I couldn't buy, let alone wear, any of them. So, disgruntled and defeated, we trudged out of the evil store, into the dark night and back to the campground.

Where--we found that the insane, monkey-toed, inbred, knuckle-dragging, banjo-dueling, tent campers had vacated the premises. Leaving behind scary remnants of their encampment for future archaeologists to puzzle over.

So we were all winners in the end. The Man earned good-husband points for attempting to fix my crazy. The Urchins learned that power-shopping doesn't pay, and I could walk un-ogled to the bathhouse.

Moral of the story? Muumuus trump inbred evilness by proximity alone.

Until next time, Citizens!