I got stuck in a dress in a fitting room today. I was attempting shopping and I'm in a fat mood at the moment. But still I wasn't being irrational or over optimistic, the dress was my size and on a non fat free day I wouldn't have had a second thought about trying it on. But alarm bells should have rung when there was about gizillion of this particular style on the SALE RACK. Lisa, listen...alarm bells!
And I should have listento those alarm bells again when I had trouble even getting it on. I reached that point of no return, after I'd squished my boobs into unnatural positions to pull the thing over my head. A nano second later with a resounding ..."nah.." I started rewinding the getting-the-dress-on process. But things went from bad to worse quickly. First off I'm very claustrophobic. It stems from my childhood when The Sister enjoyed holding me down usually with a blanket over me, trapped and I'd end up usually doing a little bit of wee in my pants through the ensuing hysteria and screaming. Sometimes she would add to her fun by tickling me as well which made the wee situation even worse. So I'm reversing the boob squashing technique but that's not working, I am well and truly wedged into this nasty dress with no hope or solution. I briefly thought about ripping the thing and then buying it, but that would involve using my arms, which unfortunately were also stuck. Yes, a bit of a predictament. And then of course, the cheery voice..."is everything ok..?...how's that size...?" from the hovering shop assistant. "I'm fine thanks" came my muffled reply. Bloody hell, I was anything but!
At this stage I'm on the verge of a clautrophic panic attack and they are anything but pretty or quiet. I'm sweating. My flesh andboobs are displayed is in all their glory in the many mirrors in the fitting room. But somehow with frantic shimmying and wrestling there is finally that sweet moment of release and relief.
And as I hand it back to the assistant, I casually say "I think I'll just leave it". Damn straight!