I mentioned yesterday that I went shopping with my mom. Part of the day we spent in the J.C. Penney's lingerie department, a place I avoid like the plague.
I'm waiting for my mom to finish her special order and I start thinking, "Well, I'm HERE. I don't have two boys (age 6 and 10 and convinced their eyes will burn out if they spend too much time surrounded by this type of lingerie) with me. I have TIME to try on some of this stuff. What the hay."
In a fever of OPTIMISM, I grab a -um- garment in a size TWO SIZES smaller than usual. I am delighted with my bravery. I have lost some weight, after all. I'm still working on it and this could be just the incentive I need.
I go back to the dressing room. It's been SOME TIME since I braved mirrors with any kind of -garment- from the lingerie department.
It was not pretty. Not pretty at all. Quite horrifying, actually. I quickly removed it before I passed out from lack of breath. It was like a gauntlet!
Feeling more than a little embarrassed because I was SURE the lady in charge of the department could tell I was dreaming when I picked out the size to try on, I tried to nonchalantly return the item to its place on the rack.
I figured without MY MOM.
"Hon, did you try it on?"
"Yes, Mom. It doesn't fit. I'm going to wait until I lose more weight."
"What?"
(Louder)... "Mom. It doesn't fit. I'm going to wait until I lose more weight."
"Can't hear you, dear."
(Even LOUDER)... "IT DOESN'T FIT. I'M GOING TO WAIT UNTIL I LOSE MORE WEIGHT. Thanks for making me repeat that THREE TIMES!"
"Oh. So sorry, dear."
grumble grumble grumble
As if being in that department at all isn't embarrassing enough, now I've informed all and sundry that I am too FAT to FIT into a reasonable size!
But, it was okay. She took me out to lunch to make up for it. :)
1 comment:
I've grown to hate dressing rooms.
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