Today I went to do a little shirt-shopping, as I have a fancy-pants work lunch and a meeting with a high-powered executive coming up this week, and I wanted something new to wear.
Now, anyone that knows me well knows that there is really nothing girly-girl about me, and that includes getting excited about shopping for clothes. That's partly because nothing ever really fit well, and the "twins" kind of make trying on shirts a little difficult. Now that I've shed my weight and the twins have "shrunk" a bit, I AM finding it a joy to bring smaller sizes into a fitting room and have them look like they're supposed to.
That being said, I tried on a nice shirt, but found it a little baggy. In my mind, I thought I was wearing a size small, since that's what I'm buying most of my shirts in now. I left the fitting room to look for an extra small, and was a little miffed not to find one. Then it hit me: I was fitting into extra-small! Granted, it wasn't a skin-tight number, but the glee was still there. I figured I could live with the size small I was wearing, and bought it.
Imagine my dismay when I inspected the shirt again and found that I bought a medium! So not only did they not have it in extra-small, they didn't even have it in small! Oh, I was crushed, and not even so much because I probably wouldn't have fit in the extra-small after all, but because I spent money on a shirt that really WAS too big. Final sale too.
Moral of the story: don't count your chickens before they hatch, or always check the size of the clothes you're buying. Something like that.
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