Not even a month after my traumatic swimsuit episode, fitting room catastrophe again reared its ugly head. However, this time was not in the form of a terrifying reflection in the mirror.
No, this time the danger was real...tangible...physical!
I have been craving a dress. Not just any dress, I have an image in my mind of EXACTLY what I want. Knee length, button up...nothing too fancy, but for some reason I really want it!
I found something similar to what I was looking for at Charlotte Russe today. I grabbed the size 9 (since clothes fit small there) and considering the fact I have been working my bum off (hopefully literally) to get back into shape, I mustered up the courage to also grab it in a 7.
On a bit of a valor high, I decided to try on the 7 first and...WHOA, WAY TOO TIGHT!!!! It was a little difficult to get on which, let's be honest, should have set off a few red flags.
The real battle began when I attempted to remove the dress that was currently cutting off all blood flow below my waist.
I was able to get the sleeves of the dress to my elbows when all progress came to a screeching halt.
The dress would go no further. However, considering my arms were stuck in a straight up position, I was unable to grab the dress with my hands to pull it up any further.
RETREAT, ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION was my initial thought. Unfortunately, the hands that were unable to pull it up were also unable to pull it back down. So there I was, completely stuck.
I began whipping my entire body around the dressing room, with the hopes that one of my frantic movements would prove helpful to my predicament. It seemed the more I struggled, the tighter and more tangled up I got...kinda like a Chinese finger trap.
At one point, I had scenes from National Geographic channel flashing through my mind. You know the ones where the anaconda is slowly squeezing the life out of its dinner. I now feel like I can empathize with snake food.
Finally, just as I was about to open the dressing room door (which I won't even go into my plan to accomplish that), I caught a glimpse of Kerrigan through one of the armholes.
She had the best look on her face, that can only be described as a smirk. It was as if she knew exactly what was going on, and getting a kick out of it. I could almost hear her say, "Guess ya won't be laughing the next time you get a onesie stuck on my head, will ya?"
My panic attack subsided, and reason returned...20+ years of dressing myself had prepared me for this moment...I could do this!
Success did not come easy my friends...I earned every inch of freedom, one centimeter at a time! I only wish I had thought to take a picture of my smeared mascara and disheveled hair.
The lesson I learned...NEVER take risks in the dressing room if you are shopping alone...NEVER!