How To Try On Clothes

With the change of seasons comes the desire to change looks. By the end of the winter, the elastic in my clothing is stretched to the max and all but given up. My pant buttons have popped off and possibly harmed people. My socks have holes and my shirts are all stained from apron-less holiday cooking. It is time for some new clothes made of stronger material. Generally, I try and buy things off the rack and deal with the consequences of the blind purchase later. However, occasionally I have no choice but to actually squeeze into something and look at myself in a 3-way mirror. I have a method.

First, I am realistic about my size. I don't, for instance, grab a size 2 and hope that it is either mismarked or actually a 2X. I keep it real. There are certain things that just don't look good on me, and I know this. I don't convince myself that I will look good in a peasant shirt. What I will look like is an actual peasant. All I would need to complete that look would be a grocery cart and a pipe.

Next, I try and make sure I don't have a crazy pattern or bright color. This invites too much attention and last time I checked, I wasn't a clown. No words, either. Why on earth would you wear a pair of sweats with something written on your derriere? Your butt is not a billboard. No, instead I stick with the nice, funereal colors of an elderly woman in mourning. No need in making a scene or using my hind quarters to make a statement.

Finally, as I enter the dressing room, I begin what will be a small series of adjustments that make the whole experience tolerable. If no one is around to yell at me, I find a light switch and shut off a few of the lights in the room. Every dressing room is lighted with harsh, unforgiving fluorescence that highlights every wrinkle, cellulite dimple, stretch mark and pimple on your body. A couple lights off and voila! Instant ambiance. I lose 10 pounds immediately. This is not always possible, so in the event there are no light switches handy, I just squint. Squinting softens everything around the edges, much like the touch-ups that erased the acne in my middle school photos.

Now, I carefully feel my way along the wall and find an empty dressing room stall. It is extremely important at this point that you are to never look directly in the mirror. Keep your glance cast downward as you slip out of your street clothes and wiggle into your new duds.

Rule #1: If you are having a hard time getting the item over your hips, buttoning the item or if you simply can't move your arms, IT DON'T FIT. Do yourself a favor and don't even look in the mirror.

Rule#2: Don't stop squinting

OK, now comes the part when I try on an item and I am able to get it buttoned, zipped or tied and I can still breath freely and bend my legs without cutting off my circulation. This is nirvana. The mirror silently stares and tempts me to look directly into it. I do not. But, I do open them a tiny bit more and I see that this outfit does not make me resemble a polish sausage. I have a winner.

Rule#3: If it fits, and it doesn't make you resemble a polish sausage, BUY IT.

I take my treasure and stumble my way out of the dressing rooms. I courteously leave the lights off for my sisters who will follow.