I used to love shopping for clothes. From age 15 to 22 I worked at a denim store. I got a wicked discount and I spent a significant percentage of my paycheque on clothing. In high school I had 60-some-odd pairs of pants.
But as I got older, it got harder to justify the expenditure on all those clothes. Especially after we bought a house. Once we bought a house, our expenses jumped form increments of hundreds into increments of thousands. A house will Thousand-dollar you to death.
Shopping for clothing has also gotten trickier since I stopped exercising. (Although I did go to Yoga the other night for the first time in months, but ended up wanting to punch the instructor in the throat.)
Anyway, I went shopping with my best friend last Saturday. I had only one mission: A dress. Hubby and I have a wedding to go to on December 17th, so I need a winter- AND wedding-appropriate dress. Not black, but not slutty/slinky either. And no flowers. Flowers are for summer. Of which IT IS NOT.
We went into LeChateau - tons of prom dresses and lots of jewel tones to choose from. And of course, several intolerable little sales brats.
I was about to enter the change room with a few dresses. I asked one of the little brats to find me my size in another pretty one I'd spotted.
Brat: Oh really? I dont' think you need that size. You need a smaller one.
Me: Um, no. My size please.
Brat: Well, let me look at you. *turns her head to the side*
Me: *stands there uncomfortably* My size will be fine, thanks.
Brat: I think the smaller one will work.
Me: *walking away toward the change room, hollering over my shoulder* No, my size please!
I started throwing on dresses (which of course all looked like shit) while my friend waited outside. And when the Brat brought me the final dress, what else would you expect? The piece of crap didn't fit over my fat ass. When I peeled it off, I looked at the size. THE SMALLER ONE.
So naturally, I freaked out and shouted over the wall.
Me: I TOLD YOU I WANTED MY SIZE. NOT THE SMALLER ONE.
Brat: Um... Ok, I'll get it off the manikin.
Me: NEVER MIND! Tell her to never mind!
My friend: *clueless as to what is going on* Uh, she says to never mind...
Me: *storming out* Bringing me the smaller size just makes me feel like SHIT. Thanks for that. *tears welling up*
Brat: *staring blankly*
I don't even know what to say about this. It's shocking.
Whatever. I ended up finding a dress that was a fraction of the price. It's cute and the salesgirl was quite friendly. Which I guess means I win.
But I don't feel like I won. I feel like a fat pig (no matter how irrational that is - it's still a legitimate feeling) and I'm afraid that I'll never again enjoy shopping.
Unless maybe I win the lottery and can have all my clothes delivered to my house. Ooo, I would totally get a personal shopper. Someone funny, friendly, and honest. Someone KIND. Someone I could trust.
Will one of you gals be my personal shopper?