Word of advice people: Shopping by yourself can literally be dangerous and/or expensive.
I know. That doesn’t sound that ground-breaking or even new advice but if what happened to me yesterday hadn’t happened? I wouldn’t have learned that aforementioned lesson.
This past Christmas I received a few gift cards from people that really know me. People that really know me know that I’m kind of fickle and I sometimes like to shop so it’s just safer to get me gift certificates is all I’m saying (hint hint.)
Oh, and who ever invented a gift certificate that can be used in any store in the mall? That is Nobel Peace Prize winning material right there in the arena of sustaining marriage and long-term relationships. Pure brilliance and win-win for everyone.
Anyway, this past Saturday my friend and I found ourselves armed with gift certificates, red sale signs as far as the eye can see, and (best part) not one child stuck to either of our sides/purses/ankles. We hit our number one store, H&M, first as they had just received a shipment of affordable Jimmy Choo’s and we wanted first dibs.
Well it turns out every single pair in my size was gone (some roving gang of size 6 bitches bought my freaking snake-skin rhinestone encrusted shoes yo – that right there is a CRIME) so I moved on to finding a top that was going to hide the damn spare tire I not-so-loving developed over the past couple of months. It’s all in the drape folks.
While plucking up every top that fit that bill and wasn’t the color of the 80s (what is up with that? Neon green and neon yellow should stay where it belongs, in the construction industry) I also grabbed a few classy looking dresses.
One particular Hepburnesque black number just screamed Breakfast at Tiffany’s so I grabbed what I hoped was my size off the rack.
[sidebar: anyone who shops at H&M knows that they just sew labels willy-nilly in the clothing. Because if you tell me that I take a size two top, with a size ten pants, and a size fourteen belt, well then my body image dimorphism is way more warped than originally thought because apparently I'm shaped like the pear who rolled over Tokyo -- and I'm not. This fact -- the one about the labels, not me being the pear that rolled over Tokyo -- weighs heavily in the rest of the story.]
So I took this black dress and a pile of other garments into the fitting rooms which incidentally were hotter than Hades. Not sure why I needed to mention that but OMG those fitting rooms were sweaty.
I tried on all the tops and was pleased to find one that actually fit and made my b**bs look great without looking slutty which is like winning the shirt lottery. I saved the Audrey dress for last and I’m not sure what I was thinking when I put it on but as soon as I started to work the zipper up the back, I knew it was too small. Yet I kept zipping.
ziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipomfgIcan’tbreathe
I could not reach the zipper. All I could do was start watching my head, arms, legs, and tongue turn blue in the fitting room mirror. I was too scared to breath because (a) fabric explosion and (b) the price tag wasn’t marked sale and this sucker was full price off the designer rack. GAWDDDAMMIT I wasn’t paying full price for an exploded dress! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. My ribs were beginning to be crushed like battlestar that just got torpedoed by cylons (wow, I’m a nerd.)
If my friend hadn’t come in at the same time to try things on, I swear I’d still be stuck in that fitting room hell. Luckily, she knocked on my room to get my opinion on something that she was trying on (that fit – b*tch) and I slowly opened up the door, trying not to explode the dress that was now trying to kill me. As she stood there spinning around while saying “how does this look?“, I tried to smile and hiss under my breath (lest I pop a seam) a single word: “help.”
She looked at me and my painted-on, rippling, and screaming-at-the-seams dress and gasped. “How can you breath?”
As a single tear rolled down my cheek, she made the turn-around motion with her hand and her deft hand quickly released me from my viscose-prison.
Let this be a lesson to you all. If you ever try to squeeze your love handles by Pillsbury into a dress that is too small, make sure you have a friend on hand with her shoe-horn talents to get you out of that sucker and tell you “That dress is sooooo mislabelled girl.”
A good friend tells you it’s the dress that was in the wrong because that’s what good friends do. Word.
About Katie Motherbumper
word :-)
It is astonishing how sizes can vary just according to manufacturer/brand.. much less in one store :-)
All those size 6 shoes, are down here because that’s all I ever see.
@rachel, SERIOUSLY — your county is hoarding all the size 6 shoes? Those are always the first to go up here. Must be a Canadian thing ;)
Twitter Name: motherbumper
“Oh, and who ever invented a gift certificate that can be used in any store in the mall?”
Someone DID invent something just like that, . . . it’s call CASH!
@Solon, Yes it is called cash and no one trusts me with it so mall gift certificates it is. Slightly more personal I think is their intention and while I’m not sure what they fear I will buy if they gave me actual cash, they still won’t give it to me. And they are probably right to be cautious. But that? That is another post.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
Oh no! I actually had to get cut out of a dress at Marshalls once b/c the zipper got caught in the fabric and no one could get me out of it. Might not have been THE most humiliating moment of my life, but it’s in the top 5.
@Allie, This makes me feel better — not that you were humiliated but that someone else has been stuck in a dress. Thank you.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
Better than the gift certificate you can use at any store in the Mall, the Visa Giftcard! Thou can be used ANYWHERE!!! Word to your mutha!
Twitter Name: lotsospermies
@Pamela, OHHH I forgot about those. Word to your mutha indeed. Those totally trump the mall gift certificate. I’m updating this year’s gift list requests pronto.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
I think we’ve all done that. Where is the trigger in our brains that says “I know it’s too small, just keep zipping anyway!”
“….battlestar that just got torpedoed by cylons.” – too freaking hilarious!!
@Ally, There is obviously a chunk of my brain that does not how to say ‘No’. In fact that’s what got me in this entire mess in the first place ;)
Twitter Name: motherbumper
Yes! The MALL gift certificate is truly a gift from God Himself (if you’re into that sort of thing).
Twitter Name: Amy_Urquhart
@Assertagirl, I’m into the mall gift certificate, that much I know is true ;)
Twitter Name: motherbumper
At the fat girl stores, they have employees there to tell you how good you look, no matter what you try on.
It’s a lot more annoying that it sounds.
Twitter Name: alotofnothing
@Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing], I never ever trust sales girls no matter what store. That’s how I ended up with half my ugly ass purchases crammed in the back of my closet. The other half were due to drunk shopping. Something I never recommend.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
@Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing], Amen!! I make my husband go shopping with me because he’s the only person I know (short of Clinton and Kelly) who aren’t afraid to tell that fat girl she looks fat in something. I swear I’m not violent. Well, over that at least.
Twitter Name: ladyjess78
@Jessi,
that’s why i take my sister – she’s uber honest w/ me, which again, may not sounds like a good thing.
my husband doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but really, why would he want me to go out w/ my cheesy butt all OUT THERE?
Twitter Name: alotofnothing
I have the same love/hate relationship with H&M too! Its terrible. You find one AMAZING piece that makes you feel great (you know: minimizes the tire and tactfully camoflagues the bra bulge), and then you all excited to go find more in that stunning color that suddenlt makes your eyes bluer and your hair blonder. Only to try on the same size in another top and not even be able to get it over your shoulders. Then you leave feeling deflated. Well, your emotions are deflated and the tire remains in tact. Lovely.
@Megan, H&M are trying to drive us all insane. Damn those Swedes.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
I’m not even going to tell you how many times I have gotten stuck in a damn garmet in a dressing room. The fact that I’ve never been cut out of anything amazes me.
@Jen, We should go shopping together. Because you know when we do? You just know we will both require a pair of scissors and someone with steady hands.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
No, it isn’t you, it’s their bullshit sizing and labeling. I’m still the same size as I was in high school. HIGH SCHOOL! I’ve been out of high school for 100 years and there’s no way in hell I’ve seen any remnant of that body in at least 96 years.
I say fuck it, and then have another donut.
Twitter Name: MPoppinsinHeels
@Mary Poppins in Heels, Oh hell yes, please pass the donuts… dibs on the lard filled ones.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
@katie, I’m thinking some of those babies and a bottle of wine, and we’re good to go!
Twitter Name: MPoppinsinHeels
I got trapped in this too small shirt once. Like I got it back over my shoulders, but my arms got trapped and I couldn’t get it all the way off my head and I thought I was going to smother. Luckily my mom was there and she saved me from running out into the store in nothing but a bra and begging for help.
@Jennifer, Retail straight-jackets: the stuff my shopping nightmares are made of. This is why I recommend the buddy system when shopping. You always need someone to macguyver you out of sticky situations. Word.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
oh, H&M….you continue to baffle me with your sizing.
I once had to buy a shirt in a size 8, a cardigan in a size xs…and the size TEN skirt did not fit…was too tight. So I walked out of the store.
and I once bought a shirtdress in a size large. I can’t imagine what sort of people they are selling XSs of those dresses to. probably third graders.
Twitter Name: alimartell
@the alimartell, I think some of those XS things are meant to be worn on your thumb. Or barbie. People just shouldn’t be that small. H&M is screwing with us all.
Twitter Name: motherbumper
Yes- Good friends ALWAYS blame the dress! Its the most important thing in a friendship with someone!
@Christen, AMEN! That’s what a good friend is for.
Twitter Name: motherbumper