Okay. I’m an Idiot.

Posted by mwallach on May 4, 2011 in Crazy Follows Me Everywhere, New To You |

Dear That’s Life,

Years ago, my mother had a friend who owned a blouse with gold-plated buttons which had to be removed before the shirt could be laundered. The intent was that if you were wealthy enough to purchase the item, you must also have someone on staff responsible for removing the buttons then sewing them back on after the garment had been cleaned. I have often thought about that shirt and the idea behind it – as it may be one of the most preposterous things I have ever heard.

The queen of multi-tasking, I picked up paper towels yesterday and bought a dress – all in the same place. There is no point in going to Target thinking that you are going for only one item. It’s foolhardy and the equivalent of pretending that going to Costco will cost less than $250, all presumably on things you don’t need. As such, if I need clothing, I make sure I have my shopping list with me as well. Milk, play-doh and sequined cardigans: all at Target.

Standard operating procedure is that I do not trying on items in the store before I buy them – I bring them home, give them a whirl and if there is a problem, make a return. At this point in my life, I can immediately tell whether the dress or item is going to be a win or a loss, therefore rarely having to bring anything back. This time was no different and I knew the dress was going to be perfect even before my Amex was swiped. What I did not know, however, was that getting me in and out of the dress was going to be a two-person job, requiring another set of hands, a coordinated effort and a flow chart.

It was not because the dress did not fit, thank you, because it fit just fine. Rather, the zipper of the dress is along the side, not up the back, which is rather difficult to close considering that my elbows, wrists and hands are not double jointed. In addition, the top of the zipper has a hook and eye closure, which definitely needs its own set of hands. After the dress is zippered, another person must be responsible for closing the hook and eye while the dress wearer stands there. Two words come to mind: design flaw.

Reminiscent of the expensive blouse my mother’s friend used to own, I could not understand who at Target thought that anyone buying this dress at a whopping $40 was also going to also have someone else readily available for zipping and hooking this item. Taking great pride in learning how to get dressed all by myself  by the time I was four, I do not really want to depend on someone else to put on my clothes. Regardless of how funny it will be to watch myself contort into various positions trying to get this done, I am determined to go it alone.

About six weeks ago, I found myself in another fight with a dress, but this one was totally my fault. This time, I tried the dress on in the store, not quite sure it was a homerun. Happy I went with my gut, the sleeves ended up being snug while the waist was a little roomy. Not sure what made me do it, but I decided to try the dress in one size smaller, despite the already fitted sleeves.

While the waist fit fine, the sleeves were so tight I looked like the Hulk with bulging veins but sans green skin, my arms seeming to explode out of the fabric. Having completely lost the mobility of my arms, I looked like a freakish side show act, my hair flying everywhere, grunting as I struggled to extricate myself from the sleeves, forcing the dress over my head in a Houdini-like attempt to be free. Luckily, the fitting room was empty while this was all going on, as I can only imagine how I must have sounded.

Exhausted and completely spent from what should not have been an aerobic exercise but was, I looked in the mirror, taking note that the dress was still half-on despite my efforts. My friend Chani and her immortal words of wisdom came to mind. I shook my head, stared at the evidence of my struggle, looked at the state of my hair and said out loud, “I don’t know why you’re so stupid.”

MLW

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