Right. Due to popular demand, here we have what I hope will be the most embarrassing story ever to grace this site. It's more than a slight segue from the usual baking, but considering everyone I've told it to has more or less wet themselves laughing and then told me I need to write a blog post about it, here we have it.
Several weeks ago, I went shopping for wedding dresses with my lovely friend Em. But we started off the trip with bridesmaids' dresses. The first two Em had me try on were quite nice, although we declared that $350 for a bridesmaid's dress seemed more than a little excessive. (Slight tangent - that shop, which was by no means illustrious - had bridesmaids' dresses up to EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!) They were nothing near the colour that Em has in mind, but as an example, they served their purpose.
The third dress, however, was where things got...interesting. The dress in question was fairly hideous - it was a red satin thing with an empire-ish waistline and a v-neckline. Em had basically decided that a style like that wasn't going to work anyway, and when I put the dress on, it was confirmed. The zipper wouldn't do up all the way, which I assumed just meant that I was slightly too fat for the dress. Turns out, not so much.
When I went to take the dress off, the zipper wouldn't so much as budge. As it wasn't done up all the way, I took the straps off and twisted the dress around so I could see what I was doing. At which point I noticed the zip had actually come off the dress on one side. And as a result, it wouldn't come undone, regardless of how much I tried. So I stuck my top back on and my jeans back on and, with the dress around my waist, headed out of the fitting room in search of assistance.
Em tried to get it undone, unsuccessfully. So we called over one of the staff to ask for help. She was (in my memory, which may be erroneous) about four feet tall, and told me - rather forcefully - that I should just take it off over my head. Weeeeeeeeeeeeell, I'd already tried that myself without success. Obviously... And I pointed this out accordingly.
She declared that it was possible, and dragged me back into the fitting room. There, she made me stand with my arms in the air like a little kid while she yanked at the dress. And when mere yanking failed, she started shoving - punching might not be considered hyperbole - at my boobs in an attempt to get the rather fitted waistband closer towards my head.
She did eventually succeed, but it was the longest five minutes of my life. During which time Em ran to the other end of the store so I wouldn't hear her laughing (I don't blame you Emmy, I probably would have done the same!!), and during which I was paranoid that they'd have to cut me out of the hideous thing and then make me pay for it. It didn't come to either of those, but it was a bit hit and run for a minute there.
So the lesson learnt is this: when trying on rather unattractive red satin bridesmaids' dresses, ALWAYS check that the zip isn't broken. Because you too might find yourself trapped in a fitting room with a tiny Asian woman groping you in an attempt to get you out of the aforementioned dress :S
Here endeth the humiliation...
Crossing her fingers that she never has to repeat that experience,