Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Tailored Made for Misery

OUCH. I mean...OUCH. I was fitted for a Tuxedo and I NOW know where Sadists go when they get old. My tailor looks like the sweetest elderly lady you could ever meet. She never stops saying thank you and repeatedly says OK to anything you ask regarding dry cleaning or clothes. But take a chance and ask her to take in a pair of pants and a jacket and you open the floodgates of her past life as the Pain Minister of Acupuncture .

I'm thinking a few minutes of a tug here, a fold there and a quick mark of a wax pencil with a safety pin and I'm done..outta here and off to pick up dinner.

There is a reason I don't gamble as I couldn't have been farther off and I will never, REPEAT NEVER, let this 4 ft. frame of a woman fool me again with her sweet smile. I walked out to the parking lot with the confidence knowing that my prostate is normal, I do bleed red each time I'm poked and my voice can rise two octaves with the right amount of pressure.

I forgot to ask her if she takes health care insurance because I haven't had that thorough of a physical since I played high school football.

Getting changed behind a 3 Ft. louvre screen that has as much privacy as a Swiss Spa, didn't help comfort my doubt of her tape measure prowess. She's screaming numbers out to her assistant who I never saw. (scary thought in itself). "35...... 35.5...No...35" she screams out in two different cadences.

Where am I? Is this a tailor behind me or is Tom Brady getting ready to hike a football from between my legs?

Sorry, you lost all my confidence in your statement of "NO PAIN, TWO MINUTES promise", when I asked about how all this could be done today.

So I surely don't believe you when you tell me the pin needs to break the skin to ensure a proper fit. "No lady, I'm NOT tensing up...You just happen to "grab" me to help yourself off the ground and I haven't been used like that without someone buying me at least a drink AND dinner."

I truly couldn't tell you if the tuxedo is going to fit me. But I promise my new "best friend" with a pin cushion knows more about my body shape, size, measurement and BMI than any HoMedic's scale on the market.

I walked away in complete denial, not knowing if I should be ashamed or thankful I didn't ask to have her for a second date.

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