Among the desirable objects one may find on any given shopping excursion, I firmly believe that the dressing room experience is not complete without also finding the most hideous thing to try on.
There are certain rules to the monstrosity which one might add to the ‘try-on’ pile:
1. The more sequins the better.
2. Any catsuit is an automatic must.
3. If the article of clothing would seem appropriate in your run of the mill Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff music video, it’s a winner.
4. Any thing that makes you laugh.
The last time I was at Nordstrom rack I came across a denim romper which
automatically qualifies under rule #2. It was a strapless, shorts masterpiece with a low riding belt. Beauty. I confirmed the necessity of trying it on with my shopping partner and she agreed whole-heartedly. She found a breathtaking sequined mini skirt to compliment my denim catsuit.
After rounding The Rack we took our finds into the dressing room. I awkwardly climbed into my denim jumpsuit and heard my friend giggle as she slid into her mini skirt. We opened our doors and had fun laughing at each others ridiculousness, twirling, and enjoying our ugly outfits.
The time came to return to my normal clothes and purchase what I had found (excluding my ugly catsuit). I reached up to the side zipper nestled snuggly in my armpit and tugged it downward.
The zipper refused to budge.
I tugged again.
I began to panic. The idea of being stuck in this abomination made my head spin. I was nauseous. Bordering hysteria, I pulled and pulled at the zipper.
I put my arm down, sore from pulling so hard. I leaned forward to take a breath, gathering my strength for the next fit of tugging.
Alarmed, I stood up and felt for the zipper. It was still there, obstinate and cruel. My fingers follwed the zipper down to my waist...I felt skin. The zipper had split down the middle.
I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to come up with a plan. I hated this catsuit, jumpsuit, romper, or whatever the hell it was. It was a stupid ritual to trying something this ugly on.
I had no other choice. It would just have to come off. I slowly began easing the suit down when...
The top of the zipper flew off it's resting place, ricocheted off the mirror, and flew somewhere on the other side of the dressing room. I quickly stepped out of the romper and back into my normal clothes. I hung the suit up, gathered the rest of the clothes and took them out of the dressing room.
"How did everything work out for you?" Asked the employee.
"Not too great." I replied. "I think there's something wrong with the zipper on that one." I motioned toward the catsuit and threw my pile of clothes at her before she could examine it too closely.
Red faced and full of shame, I left The Rack empty handed. I didn't want to buy anything anyway.