02 January 2011

Retail Therapy

I decided to start the new year by investing in some fabulous underwear. That way the year would get off to a fabulous start and no matter what the day may throw at me I would know that I had a little bit of fabulous on my person. (As you can see I have not resolved to increase my already-fabulous vocabulary.)

Off I prance in to town. Once in the shop I quickly select a few fancy pieces that would usually be too expensive but now gleam at me with their “50% off” tags. Strutting off into the changing rooms with my magnificent haul, I prepare to preen and admire myself in the full-length mirror. Happy New Year to moi! The sales assistant closes the heavy velvet curtain, saying she’ll call back in a few minutes.

I squeeze into a fabulously frilly lacy contraption. It ‘s definitely not the most comfortable. The sales assistant comes by and agrees. ‘Hmm not quite the right size, let me get you another one.’ Off she goes. She drops the other size in to me and will be back in a moment. ‘No problem’ I say thinking I’d just slip out of one and into another. I undo the clasp to slide the garment over my head. All of a sudden these enormous shoulders are sticking out, locking the thing in place. I can’t seem to get it past them without ripping it. There is no way I can hand this back with a tear in it and have her not notice. In fact she could come along at any moment and hear the rip crack through the air as I pull at it. The material is so delicate don’t know how I’m going to get it off.

The lace is scratchy and chafing. I start to panic but resist the temptation to yank at it, knowing it’ll get torn assunder if I do. I exhale and try to ease it over my chest and one shoulder. It gets wedged. I carefully edge it down again and try putting both arms up as straight as I can while trying to pull it up. I can feel the material tighten and the little stitches straining. Then I hear her voice outside asking how the new size is. “I’m just about to try it now” I call out, in a nice calm voice to assure her that I am about to burst incredible-hulk style out of the previous one first.

I pause for thought. Should I just give up and ask for help? How could a second pair of hands tugging at the thing make it less likely to rip? Would I still be liable if it did? There must be another way.

I consider all angles, and then I settle on my hips. Hmm, I’m not exactly an ‘hourglass’. There is no time to waste so I quickly start working it past them, milimetre by milimetre, until I finally manage to step triumphantly out of it. I heave a massive sigh of pride and relief and resume normal breathing.

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