“Sure,” I lie. “Actually I was looking for um…the kind without a butt.”

“You mean assless chaps sweetie-pie? She queries.

“Yah.” I say under my breath. Doris the day manager cackles mirthfully.

“Cutie cue, all real chaps are assless! If they weren’t they’d be pants.”

“Oh.” I blush furiously. “Well I’ll just look around then.”

“You go on and let me know if you need any help muffin!” Doris ducks away and I watch as the ten-gallon hat waddles behind racks of leathers over towards the front counter.

I glance across the rows of chaps. It was pretty clear they were all of the assless variety. I pick up a traditional looking pair. I picture myself mucking out stables. Shaking my head, I move on to a fringed, pink alligator skin pair that makes me giggle before I re-hang it. Then I find what I’m looking for: a matte black, soft and smooth pair of leather chaps. I grab size small and head towards the front desk where Doris lies in wait. As I approach, Doris puts a hand up to stop me.

“Now honey bunches you haven’t tried those on.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,“ I mumble.

“No way cutie patootie you head on down to those dressing rooms and make sure. We don’t do no returns here!”

I dejectedly return from whence I came and push through the swinging double doors of the dressing room. I slip out of my jean skirt and hang it on the spiked spur drilled to the partition. I should have worn underwear today. I slip one leg into the appropriate leg hole and lift the other one to do the same. Clumsily, I lose my balance as I lift my other leg and tumble over, grabbing at my skirt as I fall. The skirt catches me right before I hit the floor and then I hear a menacing RRRIIIP. The spur spike rips through my skirt, splitting it in half and causing me to drop hard onto the ground. Oh my God. I pick up the scrap of denim that was once my skirt and look at it blankly. What do I do now? Thinking fast, I whip out my phone and call Ashley. No answer. I can’t stay in this dressing room forever, Ashley might not pick up her phone for hours and I’d told my parents I’d be back in two. I know what I have to do. I ease the chaps on to my waist and walk out of the dressing room. I walk up to the counter, throw sixty dollars, more than enough to cover my purchase, down by the register and bolt out the door before Doris can ask questions.