Do you MIND!!!??!

I needed an outfit for a 'do'.
I hate shopping.
I hate shopping for -  in particular - clothes.
I hate shopping with three men of various ages with various degrees of despair, disgust and desperation on their faces.
Guess what we were doing on Saturday afternoon.........

There was, however, one delightful moment in my afternoon of torture, and it goes like thus........

After, what seemed an age of trawling through clothes racks, looking at price tags, disregarding an item on colour, size, price, style, age group, suitability for the occasion, shape, shades, cloth, repeat-wearability, (this list can go on for ages, it all boils down to the fact, I don't like current fashion and current fashion doesn't like me....) I eventually found something I half liked, Himself bordering on  recklessness arising from despair - stony politeness agreed that I should try them on, whilst Eldest and Youngest fiercely began a mock battle beneath a rack of sparkly cocktail dresses. Leaving Himself to haul the marauding battlers off before the wildly rocking rack of expensive looking frocks were damaged, I shuffled off to the changing rooms to put myself through more personal anguish.

There is a bit of a queue.
Predominantly occupied by fake-tanned, bleached teeth, implanted, hair straightened glossy clones.
I am the token sore thumb.
I must be giving off an aura of country-bumpkinness as the clones give me a wider margin - I prefer to think of it as my force-field shield of grump.

I eventually am at the head of the queue and manage to find the first cubical is free.
It has a curtain
The curtain is about 5 cm too narrow.
So when I pull it closed.......the other side opens.
Deep joy.
I, after a futile attempt at stretching the thick black foul cloth to it's widest and fail. turn around and am met by three full length mirrors.
I change, hastily, avoiding my own eye contact - urgh, hate hate hate shop changing booths - they are so cruel!
All the time, I can hear constant nattering and gossip from the clones in the queue. Tacky vacuous remarks about absent friends or ex husbands, boyfriends, lovers, bosses.

Then, to my surprise, not only do the clothes I have tried on fit and look rather good - I actually find I have cracked my face with a small smile - oh, this is new!!

I start to twirl and admire the back when in the cubicle next to me I hear a deeply emotional whine ......

But I look lika lightbulb!..........

No ya don't luv, looks luvly on ya

.............But I do look lika lightbulb!

Turn round luvvy, lets look at t back, yeah, luvly

But it makes me look lika lightbulb!............

It don't, jus gerrit, it's fiiiiiiiiiine on ya

...........I look lika lightbulb,!it sticks oop at t back and it's 'orrible

Jus gerrit, fer goodness sa-a-a-ake , I've 'ad enuff an I wanna go 'oooome, gotta get ready for t'nite.....

I stood there, half undressed,  hand stuffed in mouth to stifle any laughter as the lightbulb and her impatient friend left.

Then, just to cut short my merriment and satisfaction that I am not the only one who suffers at the hands of clothing designers - the one thing between me and my dignity (that grotty curtain) was whipped open, by another clone.

..................oh sorray, fort it were emptay.................

..................!!!