A Close Call at the Mall

I hated to do it, go to the mall that is, but then I remembered the torturous time I had last summer…while desperately trying to find a cotton skirt in the sweltering July heat. It was like, I don’t know… like trying to find a real life Waldo in the mall. I learned that looking for something summery light and cotton to purchase after May is a joke, (not to mention being the butt of other people’s); especially if your criteria are to like it AND have it actually fit you. There it was…early July and every store I visited was already stocked with winter clothing. I remember the small shops I visited… the sales person always looking at me with a “you poor pathetic thing” smile as if I had just asked them for loose change and they told me begging is not allowed in their stores.
Eventually, after way too much effort, I did find one skirt that fit: a muddy brownish green rayon skirt, I bought it out of desperation, overpaid, wore it once and stuffed it in my closet, where it will now stay until I give it away, but only after the allotted amount of years pass, so as to assuaged any guilty feelings I may have about wastefulness.

I’d like to believe I learned something from that ordeal and so I did it…yesterday I ventured out to the mall.
I hate going to the mall, any mall. I get a sick, light-headed feeling even before I open that big glass door to the front entrance and that Body Shop mixture of toxic scents come wafting out at me, I’m on sensory overload just thinking about it.

There I was… a fisherman faced with an ocean full of fish, not knowing which one to catch first. I filled my arms with all I could carry of summer skirts, blouses, pants and bathing suits, determine to make this event as fruitful as possible: if only to avoid having to return any time soon.
Realizing I could only ever take 6 items at a time into the dressing room, I started to remember how this process is not without pain, but how much pain, I never fully anticipated.
Just being naked under those fluorescent lights with mirrors all around is traumatic enough, but as I started to squeeze into clothing that was too small or just too tight in all the wrong places, I began to realize that this winter, like many others, hadn’t gone by without leaving it’s mark. It all came crashing down on me, I’m in my late 40’s, I haven’t been working out much, haven’t shopped for clothes in quite a while, have gained weight (the word flabby keeps popping in my head, ugh!) and now I’m trying on summer clothes that don’t fit, all in all a recipe for disaster. Then the infamous bathing suit scene threw me over the edge. I was mortified.

I started fantasizing about stabbing myself with a plastic hanger, if only I could kill myself just to let everyone understand the depths of my horror and depression. I started imagining blood seeping out of the dressing room into the corridor, and the news headlines that night: “Women in her 40’s devastated-unable to find any clothes that fit, looked fat in everything she tried on… kills herself under fluorescent lights at the Mall today-Tonight on Eyewitness news at 11."

I felt betrayed…how could my mate be so adoring of me? How can he be so attracted to me, hot for me all the time? Didn’t he notice how much weight I’ve gained? Couldn’t he see the cellulite developing on all parts of my body? My body seems to have deceived me, or have I deceived my body? I couldn’t think straight. I had to do something immediately.

I regrouped; I went back out there and replaced all the clothes I had with larger sizes, some much larger, so that they were so big I started to feel thinner, the trick worked, at least temporarily to get me through this ordeal. I started trying on clothes that made me feel thinner, I ignored the size and went for what I felt and looked good in. Once I realized that a major part of the devastation was about not fitting in the clothes I wanted to fit in, partly because I simply refused to even look at larger sizes, things started to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and kept looking. After many hours of talking (and dressing) myself out of suicide, I eventually found some things I actually liked. I once again made a vow to start exercising more and eating lighter…luckily I made it through this time.
Sorry 11’oclock news, you’ll have to stick with the political sex scandals for now.
P.S I found this picture as I was cleaning up today, it was done by my 6 year old daughter a few months ago. I don't know exactly what she meant to convey but it is amazing how it illustrates just what I was feeling yesterday at the mall...the universe has a sense of humor afterall.