To dress a fatass

So I needed a dress today. That’s all. That was my only goal to achieve. Well, that and overcoming a lack of sleep due to what feels like heartburn and the formation of an ulcer, but in any event, let’s focus on the thing I CAN control: the shopping.

As always, I’m on a budget. And finding something appropriate for my body type is always an adventure, not to mention that if it fits properly too, well that’s utopia.

So against my better judgment, I found a Fashion Bug. And god damn, I have hated that store since I was a wee lass. I have hated the styles, the cheap quality of the clothes and the just overall crappy shopping experience. I swear, I haven’t been in a store in 20 years, but I found one recenly when my mom gave me a gift from there and I wanted to exchange it for, oh, anything else.

Anyway, I figured I’d been striking out at all my usual haunts, and this was literally the last resort. And miracle of all miracles, I found something. It’s not wonderful, by any standards, but for $40, if I get two wearings out of it (before it falls apart in the washing machine, which it WILL), I’ll be overjoyed.

There was also a sale going on, to buy something and get a lesser-value item for $1. And in some weird burst of karma, I found a pair of black dress pants in a petite size. Which, holy crap wow! I never buy pants because I refuse to pay out the wazoo for them and then have to go deal with getting them altered. Remind me to tell you sometime about my adventures with tailors. Seriously, how they had the audacity to make me pay them to fuck up my dresses is beyond me.

In any event, I found a dress, the pants, a slip and a necklace. The way I calculated it, the pants and the necklace would be a buck each.


When I got up to the checkout, the cashier threw a fit that I hadn’t properly taken advantage of the sale. And god help me, whatever language she was speaking (perhaps Russian) was lost on me. All I got out of it was that she thought my dress was way too expensive and she felt like I should go get something cheaper. There was something else said but it was lost on me.

I stared at her as she took all of my clothes and curled them up in a ball and threw them on the other side of the register. She ordered me to go find something different. I was like “What is your problem, lady? I want what I chose.”

She argued with me some more, to go find another dress. I said, “The rest of the dresses are fug. I don’t love it but GOD, it’s the best you have!”

I asked her to hand me back my crap so I could go put it back where I found it. She started yelling after me that when I found something better, I could cut to the front of the line. Yeah, the 12 women with 47 kids each really loved hearing THAT.

Luckily, my best friend called exactly at that moment, so she was my cheerleader when I told her how I was planning to impale Olga the Overlord with a plastic hanger. We talked for an hour, during which time I wandered the store and still didn’t find shit else that I would in my right mind want. But as always, my friend talked me off the ledge and injected some sanity into my life, as it’s been pretty scarce lately. When we hung up, I went back to the counter and guess who waited on me?


I asked her what the hell was wrong with the dress, anyway. And that she’d said I hadn’t taken advantage of the sale, the sign above the dress said buy one, get one for $1. I didn’t need two. And then she said I must have misunderstood her, because it was the pants that weren’t applicable for the sale. To which, I said of course I want them — Kee-rist, if they fit somewhat well, why wouldn’t I want them? I’m not made of money but there’s a lot to be said about a basic wardrobe staple that was only $30 in the first fucking place.


So she decided to be really nice to me and told me how pretty she thinks I’ll look in the dress. (Apparently she missed me in the dressing room mooing at myself. You always know when you’re in the dressing room with me when you hear two voices going, “Who’s a fatass?” and replying, “You’re a fatass!” And in the first voice, “Fatass fatass fatass” and the other voice laughing demonically. You later learn the voices were coming form the same person — moi. Ha!)

In any event, if I’d wanted a salesperson’s opinion, I would have asked them to unlock a dressing room for me instead of just crawling under a door and letting myself in that way. So I laughed and said, “Fatass!” and she was all, “WHAT?!?” And I said, “Exactly.”

She’s lucky I was only calling myself a name. Lord knows I was tempted to blurt out c u next tuesday but it’s pointless to play with an unworthy (and, yes Sabre, unarmed) opponent!

One Lonely Response to To dress a fatass

  1. Sabre :

    See, I would have gone with it anyway. While unarmed, she truly was deserving of a good old fashioned slap down. Failing that, snark that goes over her head would have rocked my world.

    Of course, I would have done it the minute she started getting snippy at the checkout the first time. But then again, I no longer have patience for that sort of thing. Being mean and a bitch, it’s my job to slap people down. 🙂