Comfort Zone

Is it easy to step out from our comfort zone? Our satisfied, snug, contented, I-know-this-well-so-why-should-I-do-anything-different zone. Maybe that means taking another route to work. Two days in a row. Eat yogurt with raisins for breakfast instead of the familiar oatmeal. Or write a kind note to someone who drives you absolutely nuts. And give it to them. Several weeks ago I visited a store at the mall with the intention of handing the sales clerk the exact name of the item I wished to purchase, pay for said item and be finished with the errand in good time. When I told the nice clerk the name of the clothing piece I had dutifully memorized, she said, "Oh, we don't sell those any more." A pregnant pause. "We sold those quite a while ago. Here, let me show you the newer model, much nicer than the one you have now."  My heart thudded to the floor. She whisked me away to a shelf which displayed the newer version. I scrunched my face. "Umm...I'm not sure. I really like the one I have." My words spilled into a transient conversation, and I was quickly patrolled to the fitting room, introduced to Bambi, and from then on, I felt transported into a world I had never anticipated re-visiting. Getting fitted for an undergarment. She ignored my protests, whipped a tape measure around my chest and announced my current bra size to which I adamantly disagreed. "I've never been that size!" I almost shouted. "Oh, the tape measure doesn't lie," she countered. Before I could kindly suggest to her she might find a new profession, her perfectly sculpted backside retreated through the door. Soon after, I looked in horror as Bambi placed a plastic bin filled with the dreaded items she thought would be ideal for me. After trying a few on, and stealing quick glances in front of the mirror, I tossed them back in the bin and pushed the white button for her to return and help me find something I liked better. After a few long moments, she stepped into the room and asked how they fit. I told her the truth. "I really like the one I have. Don't you have a more similar model?" Bambi cleared her throat. "Well, yours is comfortable from being so stretched out," she said in a chastising tone. I looked at my article of clothing longingly, giving a silent thanks for being so faithful and suitable. Sheepishly, I picked up one of the garments from the bin and purchased it out of fear. Fear of being perceived as a frumpy, old-fashioned middle-aged grandmother. A week later, I returned it. On that same day I walked into another store at the mall, made my way down the aisles and came to a sudden halt. There it was! Excitement pumped through my veins. Rushing to the rack, I touched and felt, tried a few on, breathed a heavy sigh of relief and chatted happily with the clerk at the sales counter. On the drive home I got to thinking. In this life there are tangible goods that offer us comfort and peace, some of which I find myself unwilling to compromise on or give up. Like my purchase, or a favorite pair of pajama bottoms. Perhaps I will  stretch myself in another manner, like riding in a helicopter, take swimming lessons, or volunteer in a homeless shelter. Life is full of possibilities.