April 1, 2008
A Tale from the Dressing Rooms
While frantically running around my house, packing, re-packing, cleaning and re-cleaning (Doug doesn’t think he’ll have time to clean while I’m gone, so he asked me to do it before I leave for NYC tomorrow, how nice of him…), I realized I forgot to tell you about my shopping trip.
Let me preface this by telling you that I had this favorite pair of jeans that I bought three months before I got pregnant. I loved those jeans. The were low-rise, they fit nicely in the hips, thighs and buns, and they were straight leg so they made me look really thin. When I woman finds a pair of jeans she loves, she doesn’t care how much they cost. I spend $70 on those jeans. I think they were New York Laundry, or was it Chinese Laundry? I can’t remember. The fact is I loved them.
When I got pregnant and couldn’t wear them after my third month, I was heart broken. At one point I considered writing a letter to the company to ask them to make the same jeans in maternity sizes. Doug teased me because I wore those jeans at least three times a week.
“Don’t you have any other jeans to wear?” He’d ask.
“None that I love as much as these.” I’d reply.
After Dawson was born, I couldn’t wait to lose the baby weight and fit into those pants again. It took six months, but it was like my jeans had been waiting for nearly a year and a half for me to slip back into them. I still believe that my jeans loved me just as much and actually conformed to my body shape (even when I gained a few pounds) because they still fit perfectly. Like they were made for me.
Two Fridays ago they ripped. There was a tiny little hole at the bottom of the pocket, hardly noticeable over the years. The last time I put those jeans on, I heard a sound. A ripping sound. I felt a draft. I checked my ass in the mirror and saw pink underwear peeking out. The hole near the pocket grew to the size of a saucer.
As I was standing in front of the mirror in tears, my husband walked in, saw the hole and began laughing.
“I think it’s time to buy new jeans. Those have definitely outgrown YOU.”
“Ooohh… you’re soooo funny.” I seethed.
I threw the jeans in the garbage and made a vow to go shopping for new ones. I kept putting it off, but finally, I headed out to Kohl’s last Tuesday.
I confess, I’m a plus size. Hopefully not for long. I didn’t think that Kohl’s would carry anything cute in my size, but surprisingly they had some really great things from Villager (a Liz Claiborne company; I love Liz Claiborne and own a lot of pieces from when I worked at Elder-Beerman).
I began piling clothes into my little shopping cart and noticed two women standing near me. They were looking at me intently and I couldn’t figure out why. I pretended to ignore them and carried my pile to the dressing room. I had been in my stall for several minutes, trying to see which jeans looked better on my behind, when I heard two other women come into the dressing rooms, speaking French.
Now, you should know I took five years of French classes in high school and I can understand almost everything as long as the person speaks very slowly. These women were yakking loudly and quickly so I only caught bits and pieces of their conversation.
“blah….blah, blah….blah….que la grosse vache….blah, blah…” one of them said.
“Oui….blah, blah…blah….sauter d’un batiment, blah blah blah….pantalon.” the other replied.
They were laughing and giggling and then it hit me.
Gross vache. That means fat cow. Sauter. I know that doesn’t mean “to fry in a pan”. Sauter! That means “to jump”! Oi! Batiment. Basement? No. Not basement. Building!
Pantalon. That’s easy. Pants.
Holy shit. Fat cow, to jump, off a building and pants. These women were talking about me! For what other reason would they be staring at me as I gathered clothes to try on?
They were saying that “the fat cow will need to jump off a building to fit in those pants.” I was proud of myself for figuring it out. I was mortified. Then I got mad.
I sat down on my dressing room bench, trying to convert the meanest insult I could think of into French. For example, “Listen here bitches, I know I’m not thin, but I’m not a fat cow. For one thing I don’t have utters and I don’t chew a cud. And as for you…..”
That would take ten years for me to figure out, and conjugate the verbs properly. Poor Madame Severson, my french teacher, would die if she heard me speak it incorrectly.
Just as I was going to open my door and give those women a what for, I caught this:
“blah, ma belle-mere, blah, blah, besoin du gastrique saute, blah, blah, elle est juste condamne aussi du gras.”
Let the translation begin, I thought. This could take awhile. Ma belle-mere. My beautiful mother? No, no, no. That’s not right. Aha! Mother-in-law. Okay…besoin due gastrique saute. Needs gastric jump? What? What the hell is a gastric jump? Oh, duh! Gastric bypass! Ahhh. Okay. Condamne aussie du gras. She is just too fat.
It was then that I realized I really couldn’t be sure who they were talking about, considering I only caught certain words. I would feel stupid if I hurled an insult their way only to discover they were slamming someone’s mother-in-law. Granted, I still didn’t know who the hell needed to jump off a building to fit into a pair of pants.
I finished trying on my items and as I left the dressing rooms, I put my discards on the rack outside the door. I chose a new pair of jeans and a great sweater and headed for the check-out line.
As I waited to check out, the French girls suddenly got in the line next me. In the thickest accent ever, one of them said to me, “Pardon, but where did you get your hair cut? It’s adorable. Cherie has been admiring it the whole time we’ve been in the store, but she’s too shy to ask.”
Turns out this is why they were staring at me. Because of my adorable hair cut! Zut alors! Who knew? It really is a good thing I didn’t swear in French at them after all!
Very Adorable Hair
Posted by Dana @ 3:34 PM • Shop Til You Drop
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April 1st, 2008 at 4:08 PM, Jess Says:
That is the best story ever! And a totally cute hair cut, too!
April 2nd, 2008 at 3:15 AM, Lady M Says:
That was an unexpected ending! And a great one. Your hair looks terrific.
April 2nd, 2008 at 9:51 AM, Tanilan Says:
Looking good! Just wanted to say hello!
February 9th, 2009 at 11:33 AM, The Dana Files » Tales from the Dressing Room II Says:
[...] why do the funniest things always happen to me in a dressing room? Remember this?) Posted by Dana @ 11:28 am • Bedlam, Shop Til You Drop, The Doodlebug, The Mommy Files [...]