The Baby Gap Hussy

Let me tell you all about the time that a woman from Baby Gap tried to steal my husband.


Pretty much while I was standing right there.

Her name was “B”, and she was a Big Fat Hussy.

Her name isn’t really “B”, but I didn’t wanna name names on here. Let’s just say she shares the name of my husband’s first doggie.

We were at the mall one day, strolling with Nellie. I don’t remember how old she was.. Probably 8 to 9 weeks old. I needed to look for some gifts for the girls in my quartet and I wanted to go into a particular store. Josh had no interest in said store (plus, it’s a small space and the stroller would have gotten in the way) so he walked on without me. I briefly perused the selection and quickly saw there was nothing of interest to me and I left. I walked a little ways down the mall and saw Josh headed into Baby Gap, so I went that way. I turned into the store and saw him near the back, where the baby girl clothes are.

And then I saw… B. She was making a beeline directly for him. She practically had, “ZOMG A SINGLE MAN WITH A BABY CHANGE MY PANTIES NOW” branded on her forehead. With a smirk, I sauntered back toward my husband and daughter, ready to burst this girl’s bubble with a satisfying “POP”. As I made my way, I heard her cooing at Josh with a flirty, syrupy tone.
“Ohhhh, she’s SO adorable,” said B.
I couldn’t have picked a better moment. I slid next to Josh, wrapped my arm around him, lovingly looked down at my daughter and then directly back up at B.
“Thank you!” I chirped.
I was pretty much the epitome of a cock block, except, you know. B’s a chick.
Briefly, her face fell as she looked from me to my daughter, whose hair color matches mine exactly and who shares the dimple in the chin. She quickly remembered herself and smiled.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
She passed Josh a lingering look and at this point, I was still pretty amused.

We perused the selection of clothes a bit longer, chuckling and making quiet jokes about the failed attempts of B at wooing my husband. We picked Nellie something from the rack and made our way back up to the register. As we approached, B’s gaze locked upon my husband again and she gave him – HIM, not US – a radiant smile.

My smugness dial went WAY down, and my “BITCH THAT’S MY MAN” meter went WAY UP.

It was exactly like this, except the skirt I was wearing was blue and not green.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asked him – HIM, NOT US.
“Yes,” I said. “This is everything.” She gave me a dismissive smile, and rang up our purchase.
“She’s just precious,” she said. “How old is she?” looking directly at Josh while she spoke.
“She’s almost 9 weeks old,” I chimed in forcefully. Dismissive smile from B.

She bagged our items, and pulled the receipt from the machine.
“There’s a survey on here,” she said. “If you take it within the next (blahblah) days, you register for a chance to win blahblah amount of dollars and a pony.” (okay, I’m making the pony part up.)
I nodded and reached for the receipt.
“I’m going to write my name on the top of the receipt here, so if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to come back and ask for me.”
And then she pulled out a pen, wrote her name in big, bubbly letters, and then circled it. SHE CIRCLED IT. SHE MIGHT AS WELL WRITTEN A BIG, FAT, SPARKLY HEART AROUND IT TOO, and a note that said “FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL B”.


OH YES SHE DID, RANDOM 50s WOMAN. YES SHE DID.

I just stared at her as she looked at Josh and smiled, and then I took the receipt. We left the Baby Gap, me in a state of shock and Josh in a state of “HELLS YEAH I AM THE MAN”. I glared over my shoulder to see B folding a stack of clothes.

“I can NOT believe she just did that!”
“Did what?” Josh asked, still smugly basking in the glow of being so brazenly hit on.
“She just hit on you DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME.”
“Heh heh.. Yeah, she kinda did.”

Now every time we pass Baby Gap in the mall, Josh walks a little taller and I swear to you, has a swagger in his step.. Just in case his ravenous, frothing, hussy admirer is watching.

And as for me? Well.. Let’s just say that I’m considering carrying around a squirt bottle so the next time she pounces, I can yell, “NO!” and squirt her with it.

DON’T MESS WITH MY MAN, BIATCH.

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