I have been told on repeated occasions by many different people, most of whom have never met each other, that you are most likely to meet Mr. Right in the grocery store when you are at your worst - either sick or coming home from your workout or just generally wearing your grubbiest clothing. So, every time I go to the grocery store in one of those three states, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this will be the morning/afternoon/evening that the magic will happen.
Today, I've officially decided that the above theory is a load of crap, and I will no longer try to catch the eye of the cute guy in the produce section or down the dairy aisle. It isn't working, and it hasn't worked since people started telling about this back in 1999. I. Give. Up.
This isn't to say that I'm going to start wearing kitten heels and short skirts to get a litre of milk or a loaf of bread. Just that I'm going to stop worrying about which sweater - the green velour hoodie or my hooded sweatshirt from my undergrad alma mater - looks better with the sweatpants and worn-out sandals I'm wearing.
