EVERY WOMAN’S NIGHTMARE: THE DRESSING ROOM

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I rarely ever go to a store to shop for clothes.  I can tell myself it’s because I don’t want to drive there, I don’t want to look for a place to park, I don’t have the time/money, it’s too cold/too hot, but you really know why I don’t go into stores, don’t you?  It’s those dreaded dressing rooms!

Because I don’t shop in stores for clothing, by the time I am almost naked and have to take that walk down those aisles of shame, I have way more clothes than you are allowed to take into a dressing room.  Now here is problem number 1:  Do I cheat and bring in all the clothes?  What if I get caught?  Will they think I am attempting to shop lift?  (Seriously, how many layers of clothes can a fat woman put on before looking like a circus side show freak, so that is probably not an issue).  Or do I follow the dressing room code of honor and bring in only the allotted number?  And since I always shop alone (very few people can shop with me as I am known to look at everything…remember tho, this is a rarity for me so as long as I am out at a store, I’m gonna check everything out!), I have no buddy waiting outside the door to slip me more clothes as I try on and ultimately discard, my allotted number of items.  So that means that I have to get re-dressed and leave my room/stall and go and get the other items waiting outside the dressing room, cause you can’t bring your cart in the dressing room area.  Personally, I have never heard of someone trying to sneak a cart out of the store under their clothes, but it must have happened somewhere.   This brings up to problem number 2:  do I leave anything in the dressing room so it looks like someone is still using it and if so, what to leave?  Purse?  Not unless you like to give your stuff away.  Shoes? Not if you like them or aren’t planning on buying another pair in the same store.(Ah, but that brings up another question.  If your shoes are stolen while you are trying something on, and you have to walk around without shoes, can they still refuse you service?  No shoes, no shirt, no service.) If you leave a piece of clothing that you had tried on , that still counts as 1 item so you will only be able to bring back less than the first time.  Or do you live dangerously and run to your cart and hope no one gets your room before you get back.  Problem number 3: Remembering which dressing room was yours.  They all look alike and most have self-closing doors so there you are, standing out in the hall, wondering how you can be so dang dumb as to not remember what room you just came out of.  Worse yet, is when you need to see a panoramic view of your butt (cause you all know it’s the first thing we look at when we try something on….even a bra) and you come out of your room and walk down to the end where the big 3-way mirror is (just makes my day even better to see my large butt in three different views).  Oh, and have you ever had on your mumu sized outfit and Miss  “Does this size TWO make me look fat”? come and stand next to you with her equally tiny friend who are both horrified that someone could let themselves “go” like that.  And hell on earth is when you both have on the same clothes.  It Has Happened To Me and it wasn’t pretty.  You flee blindly to the safety of your room and of course, the door you fling open has another Barbie doll standing in it, partially dressed, and she shrieks and grabs the door to slam it in your already deep red face.  So now you are faced with yet another dilemma.  Do you open doors at random, or do you get down and look under the doors (if you can) to see if you see your shoes or purse.  Then fear hits you like a dagger to the heart….you left your purse in the room and what if someone came in and took it?  Now sweat is running down your face, down into your ample cleavage and you are starting to hyperventilate.  GOT….TO…FIND….ROOM….you have gone from embarrassment to panic in ten seconds or less.  You no longer care who is behind those doors and you start flinging them open, not even looking at the person in them, all you care about is seeing your purse.  Finally!!!  There it is!!! Safe and sound.  But just to make sure, you open it and check you money and credit cards….all safe.  You are so happy you could cry.  The hell with clothes, you think.  This just isn’t worth it.  Maybe you can decorate your sweats with some rhinestones for that wedding….like Betty White on “Hot In Cleveland”.  Dejected, hot , sticky and frazzled,  you start to take off the mumu sized clothes.  But wait…..yes, it was a tad difficult to get them on but what new fresh hell is this? They aren’t coming off.   Somehow they seem to have shrunk.  New rivers of water are pouring down from your head and armpits and even your hips and legs are moist from all the emotions you have just been through.  You start to panic.  The postage stamp-sized room is getting smalller and hotter.  You manage to get the top up around your elbows and neck and over your head but it is stuck on your boobs and now you really are in deep doodoo.  There is no one to help you get out of this straightjacket and you are starting to feel a scream rise up in your throat.  The only thing that stops you from hysteria is the knowledge of the condition of your undergarments and you would rather die than to have people see the dingy color and the stretched out elastic  and the honkin’ big safety pin holding up  your bra.  Problem number 3:  Do you try to calmly wriggle out of this piece of clothing that is suffocating you like a giant boa constrictor or do you say the heck with this crap and rip the thing off  not caring about the condition of the offending garment once it is off?  I must confess to both.  Sometimes the sheer panic of being stuck in a hot coffin with layers of clothing wrapped around my face is too overwhelming and I tear that piece off like Adam Levin ripping off his shirt during a concert.  Freedom at last!!!!  The sight that you see in the mirror is enough to scare any one.  Your hair is standing up all which ways, your eye make-up is smudged, your lipstick has blurred from being rubbed off inside that death cloth and your face is puffy and red and shiny.  You try to do some damage control so you don’t look like the lead singer from “Twisted Sister” (who, by the way, is now doing commercials for Stanley Steamers….so sad…give it up, Dee) and then are faced with the last problem:  do you just leave all those clothes in the room and escape or do you do the right thing and put them either on the rack outside the dressing area or back where you got them?  I want to hear comments on this!!!!!! Tell us your worst dressing room horror story.

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About queenrobyn

61 yrs.old, wife, mother, grandma, artist, humorist, friend, caregiver, blogger, retired singer, rughooker, doll and mohair teddy bearmaker, born-again Christian, rebel, optimist, addicted Ebay shopper, collector (or hoarder as my husband would tell you), glamper, lover of all things old and worn (like me!)

4 responses »

  1. I always leave a dressing room vowing to myself to loose weight, but it NEVER happens. Hence I seldom shop for clothes. Because I can’t go without chocolate…daily 😀

  2. How about leaving a dressing room to go to the 3-way mirror and hearing the self-locking door click shut. Then having to choose between shinnying under the door to get back to your own clothes/jacket/purse or going into the store to find a sales clerk to unlock the darn door for you. ..all while wearing an ill-fitting, uncomfortable & rather unbecoming garment that you thought you might be able to squeeze into. Note to self…choose 2 sizes bigger next time!

  3. The terrors of the dressing room can plague you and ruin your day if you let them. These ill-lit stalls isolate us and taunt us as our hopes of fitting into that super trendy dress go down the drain. You shimmy into your desired item then you look up and want to punch the mirror. The color is all wrong, making your skin tone look odd, the item hugs you in all the wrong places. For some odd reason, the piece seems to be extra loose under your armpits making you wonder if there was some sort of mix up wherever it was manufactured. After the initial reaction to this mortifying experience you want to cry a little, because you realize the was no malfunction when it was manufactured and you are just a weird shaped and discolored person. On to the next store…….

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