Yes, I know…such an interesting not to mention provocative title. It’s inspired by still another odd encounter I recently had at a wardrobe fitting.
It was the same day I got lost in Brooklyn along with being insulted by the UPS man (see United Psycho Service). One could say it was quite a morning.
After all the drama getting there, I actually arrived on time. I couldn’t help musing that in the old days, a car would have picked me up at my door and brought me home not to mention never making me wait. I sat there for a good 45 minutes before a little harried woman comes out desperately needing a comb to say rather grandly, “We’re ready for you now.” Always polite, I said nothing about the wait, smiled beatifically following her like a well-trained schnauzer.
“That’s your dressing area,” she said, pointing to an empty aisle between 2 rows of evening gowns. Wow, has my stock dropped. I was so annoyed there was no proper changing room that I tore off my clothes where I stood and said, “I’ve been a model my whole life, how bout I just strip right here.” She looked startled at first but then said, ‘Yes, models and dancers all like to dress in the open it seems,” whatever the hell that meant.
“What size are you?” she asked, “a 2?” Excuse me…what am I, a bird?
“No, I’m a 4 to 6.”
“Oh, that can’t be. I mean look at you, you’re miniscule.” Now I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but never miniscule.
“With all due respect (something I say to soften the up and coming insult), don’t you think I should know my own size?” She looked at me for a long moment before letting out a huge sigh saying, “Alright, but you’ll be wasting everyone’s time including your own.”
Oh brother, did I want to smack her, or at least fix her hair. She whips out a dress that looked right out of Rigoletto and said, “It goes on over your head.” Well, I have a rather big head so I knew not only would it not fit, but there was no way I could even partially get in it. While giving it the good old college (that I wish I attended) try, she just stood there watching me struggle. Imagine breaking into a straight jacket.
“You know what, this dress may not be for you.”
“Ya think?” I said, gasping for air. Then came an orange number that she couldn’t fasten even half way up. It was like wearing a long-lined girdle 2 sizes too small. After a series of futile attempts I said, “As you can see I have a very substantial back.”
“You certainly do.” Finally, we agree on something. “You just look so skinny…I can’t believe that none of these gowns fit you.”
“May we try a 6?” She reluctantly allowed me to paw through the rack so I grabbed the widest dress I saw that also happened to be beautiful. It was beige and form fitting but not where it popped a rib. It also had a lovely neckline that didn’t make me look as if I was hiding something. Susannah, is that your wallet in here?
“That looks like it was made for you,” she said with great surprise. What’s this…a kind remark? I was positive the head of wardrobe, who had the final say, would ooh and ah when he saw me…but instead of mewling, how beautiful, he moaned, how beige. Off it came but at least all were convinced I’m bigger than I look.
“How do you manage to appear this slim?” she asked, waiting for an answer.
“I really can’t say. I guess I just have one of those Italian, Catholic bodies that knows how to conceal itself.” What was I saying? It’s just the way I’m built…can we leave it at that?
Finally she came up with a purple sheath that fit well and got approved. I look a little like the Venus De Milo with an edge but hey, it’s a job, so I can’t complain.
On the way home I started to think, why do I really look fatter naked?
I’m still tossing that one around. What I do know is, men like it.
After first mistaking me for the paper boy, it comes as a nice surprise…
so I’ve been told 🙂