"Anything I can help you find?"
"No, thank you. I'm just looking." The main floor was crammed full of free-standing racks lined in uneven rows. Each aisle was stuffed with clothing that hung from mismatched hangers.
"Okay, then." He took a sip from his coffee mug and went back to his reading. Probably the sports section.
Baseball uniforms, running shorts, protective padding...
Nope, nope, nope...
As I skimmed row after row, inching further and further from the prying eyes of the salesman, I finally spotted what I was hoping to find in the far left corner, tucked away by some exercise equipment on the wall.
There, on a small rack, was a display of posing straps. I ran my hands along the soft cotton fabric, laced my fingers through the barely-there bands.
"We just started selling those. Are you a model or something?" the man asked. I turned to find him watching me again. He'd lit a cigarette and smoke billowed from his nostrils.
"No."
"Some sort of swimmer?"
I shook my head as I thumbed through the colors. White, black, or red. Those were my options.
The man behind the counter persisted. "Well, what would you wear those for?"
Ignoring his question, I asked, "What size are these?
"They're supposed to be one size fits all. The strap is adjustable."
I snatched a white pouch off the rack, hoping it would fit my slender body the way I imagined, and took it up to the counter.
He didn't ask any more questions as he punched the numbers into the register.
$3.99
I could have bought a whole pack of my Jockey shorts for that. But this was going to be worth it. I hurried out of the store, anxious to get home and try on my new purchase.