Not for the faint of heart...
Believe me, I would rather spend my money on books than to buy clothes. Well, and on ice cream which might perpetuate my dislike of clothes shopping. There comes a time for all, when we have to follow the pied piper into the emporiums of self doubt.
By the way, do they only make skeletal dummies to showcase their clothes?
Bob and I were at the local ( well the only ) shopping mall in Oberwart yesterday and I needed to buy an undergarment for sport and it had to be tried on. Finally after weeks of staving it off for another time, I set off to the various shops there. Bob, with great patience hung about, but always at a safe distance from the undergarment isle!
Anyway, I went to quite a number of shops and into their individual torture chambers. Bright lights coupled with curtains that stop at knee level and mirrors from every angle are a modern form of torture for already less than healthy self esteems. Unless you are blessed with model measurements, this room is hideous, awful and soul destroying.
As you might have gathered, I didn't like what I saw. Fair enough, one does have an idea in one's own head of what one is not, but to have it brought to one's attention in such a sneaky and glaring way, is beyond the pale.
After an hour of dithering here and there, constantly worried that someone might mistakenly rip the curtain open and catch yours truly at less than my best, coupled with studying every angle in the brightest of lights, it wasn't a huge surprise that my nerves were frayed, not to mention my mood which had stepped into doldrums territory.
When will these clothes emporiums realize that you catch more flies with honey? Seeing an unflattering side to our bodies makes most of us stray into that dangerous dieting frame of mind and defer our purchase until we are quite a bit thinner...like that's going to happen!
For one mad moment in all of these chambers which should be renamed to: " Oh, let's break their self esteem..." I promised myself a strict diet and starvation regime but luckily that silliness was quickly disbanded by Bob's reassurance that I am not an hideously overweight woman. Did I mention that I married a Saint? Or could it be a bit of self preservation as he knows what I eat, he eats...