Inside The GAP Dressing Room (AKA Why I Shop Online)

OK, jeans. Wait. What? Whose thighs are this small? OK, these are never going to button. Ever. Should I call someone for another size? Risk it and run out the door real quick in my underwear? That would probably seem weird. I’ll just yell for someone.

Shopping for clothing always seems so romantic. A lovely sales attendant — kind but not ebullient, smart but not Stephen Hawking — delivers dresses (or pants, stay with me here) to the dressing room door. She knows your size at a glance, but wouldn’t dare repeat it. She brings you Evian, tells you that you look stunning in everything — except that one shift dress. Like two people look good in those. 

Oh, wait. That was Pretty Woman.

I don’t shop often, at least not in a store. 

Here’s why:

Inside the GAP dressing doom: A story of toddlers and torture.

OK, wow, this is really small. I don’t think we can all fit in here (Me plus two toddlers. Obviously.). Well, thankfully there’s a hook for my purse. Who knows what plague is on this floor. 

"Don’t — DO NOT — touch the floor." (Kids promptly sit on floor.)

Shit. What viruses are going around? Anything with vomiting? Hm. No. No vomiting. OK, maybe they'll just get a cold from licking the door handle. A cold. I can deal with that.

Insert screaming here:  "I WANT JAMBA JUICE."

OK, I just need one dress, a pair of jeans, and one shirt. 

"Kids, can you sit on the bench, please? I need to take my pants off." 

Oh Holy Night. Why won’t they just sit on the fucking bench? Fuck. I have to take my shoes off. They have LACES. I should have worn flip-flops. Why do they even make shoes that tie? Seriously. 

"Move over, please. I need to sit there so I can take my (stupid fucking) shoes off. (Max sits on Ella. She screams and shoves. He bites.)" 

Are you fucking kidding me right now? 

"Ten minutes. TEN."

Kids are such assholes. 

"Here. Practice the alphabet on my phone."

That’s educational. Yep.

OK,  jeans. Wait. What? Whose thighs are this small? OK, these are never going to button. Ever. Should I call someone for another size? Risk it and run out the door real quick in my underwear? That would probably seem weird. I’ll just yell for someone. They’ll understand. Well, OK, they probably won’t understand because they probably don’t have two asshole kids. Whatever.

"Excuse me, Miss. Could you bring me these in a size, uh, bigger than this one?" 

OK, these are better. At least I can pull them up. Wait. Why is there a huge butt gap? Shit. I could put a baby in there. (Hey. That’s not a bad idea.) Who fits in these pants? Do they have a butt at all? OMG, I have a huge butt. My butt is two sizes bigger than my waist. Well now I look stupid. I can’t call her back. And I obviously can’t buy jeans here. This is just evidence that I shouldn’t wear jeans at all. Yoga pants 4 life.

"Oh, for goodness sake, stop crying. I know you’re hungry. Get a granola bar from my purse." 

Why do kids act like they never eat? All they do is eat. I’d like to eat. Let’s go eat. Clothes are stupid.

Shit. Focus. Dress. Get in the game.

"I KNOW it’s crushed. It’s been in there six months. Pretend it’s granola."

Now I have to take my shirt off. This is going to be fun. It only has 12 buttons. 

"Yes, Max. I know I have boobies. Thanks for telling the WHOLE MALL."

Of course I pick the dress with the zipper up the back. OK, I’ll just pull it over my head.

Nope. Head stuck. I’ll unzip it halfway.

Nope. Hair stuck.

This is a nightmare. My god. And it won’t close over the giant boobs I have, that the whole mall now knows about. 

"OH MY GOD. Do not eat your granola bar/granola off the ground."

I hope to god there is no stomach bug going around. And of course this dress doesn’t fit my boobs. Of. Course. Minimizer bra? Or two. Plus body shaper. And some Spanx. Stop that. Spanx is a lie. Don’t do that to yourself. Just get a bigger size dress. I don’t want to ask her for a size up, she’ll think I’m deluded about my actual size. Oh shit. I am deluded about my actual size. What size AM I?

"Stop hitting each other. I know you want lunch. I just need a dress." 

GAP clothes run small. Yep. For sure read that somewhere. 

"Let’s go to the Cheesecake Factory."

Fuck it. I’m shopping online. Would it look bad if I drank a margarita at lunch? Definitely buying a cheesecake to take home.