This weekend, I discovered the quickest route to complete and total humiliation. I went bridesmaid dress shopping for my sister-in-law\’s wedding with two other girls who are size 2\’s. I am NOT a size 2. Now, I haven\’t been a size 2 since some time in the early 1990\’s, perhaps even before then. There has been a 2 on my tag more recently, but it was preceded by a 1 and now those don\’t even exist in my closet.
So, we\’re perusing the racks and pulling dresses to try on. The conversation goes like this:
Skinny girl: \”Here\’s a cute one. It\’s an 8. Will that work?\”
Me: \”Ummm…no. Here, let me look….\”
SG: \”Well, what size DO you need?\”
Me: \”Oh, I don\’t know how they\’ll run. Let me just look for a minute. I may need to take a couple of different sizes back with me.\” Notice my clever dodging of the size question? Yeah. They didn\’t.
SG: \”Oh, I\’ll get it for you. What size do you think you need?\”
Me (mumbling): \”Maybe like a fourteen or …….\”
SG: \”REALLY??? A FOURTEEN????? Well, you did just give birth to twins. You look so good.\”(Lots of backpedalling and fake flattery…Blah, blah, blah…)
I hate to tell you, but the fourteen has NOTHING to do with giving birth to twins. I was there before the babies and I\’m actually lighter now than I was a year ago. I think, and I\’m no scientist, that it has something to do with the fact that I eat everything I see. Wouldn\’t you agree?