"Snap", I thought. "I could SO channel Betty Draper in that" (if I didn't eat for a month). It's the perfect frock for the black tie wedding I've got coming up".
So, with an excited, sweaty skip in my step, I lurched towards the very small boutique and jubilantly swung open the door. "Isn't this always the way you find the perfect dress? When you least expect it?", I thought smugly to myself, with a wry smile on my face. The morgue-like feel of the store, created by the 3x1m space and ice-cold air-con did nothing to deter my confidence in what I was quite sure was about to be the purchase of 2011.
I browsed through the rack on one side of the morgue, with one eye on the prize in the window, then whimsically swivelled on one foot to assess the remaining rack of chilly attire. As I expected, nothing could usurp Betty's efforts in the front window.
"Snap", I thought again.
So I grabbed the dress and walked into the
No movement. Nothing.
Shiiiiiiiiit. I waved my arms to dry out the pool that was forming underneath them, breathed in again and jiggled around the coffin in an attempt to shift the excess baggage that was quite obviously the cause of this hideous process. Once again, I pulled the zipper.
And once a-bloody-gain, nothing. NOTHING. "Great". I thought. "Just frickin' great". You're a bitch anyway Betty. You're a shit mother and a bad wife. Why would anyone want to look like you anyway. So, I went to pull the dress off, and it wouldn't fucking move. "You are joking", I thought. I tried again. And again. And again. And I couldn't get the damn thing off. "Great. I'm going to have to open the curtain, look at the size zero shop attendant and ask her to find some fucking scissors because I'm a whale and I can't get the fucking dress off". The defining moment that every woman wants. Fuck. In an attempt to maintain some form of dignity after this unexpected disaster, I tried one more time, thinking a strategic use of sweat might just be the ticket. And I was right. At least the god damned humidity is good for something.
I quickly put my dress on, tore open the curtain and glared at the little shopkeeper with a look that would kill. I shoved the dress at her and politely indicated that in fact, one size does not bloody well fit all.