Dressing Room

 "Ohh Fuck!"

The words resonated out of the dressing room in the busy department store. Instinctively I yelled my husband's name in a parental tone. Then, embarrassed, I realized that I'd just yelled a very common man's name into the men's dressing room where at least several other men were in varying states of undress. My tone likely made my disapproval clear. 

Then out walked my 10 year old in his new clothes. The shorts were on backwards, but at least they seemed to fit. Men's Medium. A gigantic size for a 4th grader, but there was no denying the weight he had put on recently. At least these massive shorts gave him back some dignity and privacy and didn't showcase his personal shape to the world. I silently wished he wouldn't display his overly large vocabulary either, while we're on the subject of not socially appropriate things to share in public. I made a mental note to stop by the underwear section before leaving to replace the tiny ones he was not wearing at the moment. 

I decided that since he was mostly agreeably shopping for attire, I'd let the profanity slide. Pick your battles. "I hit my toe!" he gleefully announced as he showed me his orange shorts. I sighed. At least he offered a reasonable explanation.

I tried to look remorseful as a man came out of the dressing room and walked past us looking amused. I wondered if his name was Brian. A second man walked past. He too looked amused. I decided several things right then and there. First mean seem far less offended by shouting profanity in a dressing room than women would be. Next, I didn't actually want to take my son back into the women's dressing room to test that theory. And finally, an era has ended in our lives. My son no longer accompanies me in the dressing room and now joins the men in their own (profanity accepting) space.

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