Fitting-rooms are one of my pet-hate. I hate their merciless mirrors, their deceiving lights, and, above all, their curtains that never close all the way so anybody can see me trying to wriggle into too-tight clothes.
Anyway, last Spring I wanted to buy a dress and I couldn't avoid a trip to the nearby shop fitting-room.
So, there I was, all in a sweat, fed up and eager to flee that gruesome scene of self-torture.
I slipped clumsily into a pencil dress, and what was to happen happened…
I had forgotten to unzip it properly and it turned into a straight jacket in a wink : my head was half-stuck in the neckline and my arms were trapped in that awful " cigarette case "!
I tried to call for help. In vain! Sure, that dress was good value for money, cause, even though the zip was not that convenient, the fabric was pretty thick and muffled my voice totally!
After useless calls, I decided to shriek.
Bingo! A few seconds later I could feel the shop-assistant's helpful hand zip the dress down!!
Just a glance at myself was enough to crown my misfortune : tousled hair, red cheeks marked by the dress neckline, and my mouth wide open to take my breath back.
What a mortifying sight!
Then, guess what!
I was feeling so grateful to the shop-assistant for helping me to wriggle out of the dress that I bought it, even though it did not fit me like a glove, let alone like a dress.
Now, I guess you understand why I hate fitting-rooms. What about you?
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