You see, it is glaringly obvious, to myself, even if other's either don't see it... poor soul's, I don't know how long their eye sight has been out of whack. Or if they can see, but comment to the contrary to save me hurt feelings...Bless their kind hearts!
Be that as it may. Clothes don't lie.
The other day I found myself wanting a new dress to wear to church, so off to the shop I went. I found no dresses that appealed to my quirky sense of style more than what I have found in a recent mail order catalog I received. So instead I went on a blouse search.
I found the cutest blue slip-on bohemian style top, one that I thought fit my personality and hopefully my...me...so off to the fitting rooms I went.
Lucky for me there was one open so I didn't have to wait.
Yippee for me!!
Stepping in and locking the door I readied for the fitting. Stealing a quick glance over my shoulder, shuttering slightly at the rear view sight of me in a full length mirror. Grabbed the blouse off its hanger, both of us completely unaware of the upcoming trauma.
As a child I learned to put my head through the neck opening first, then one arm at a time into the sleeves. And so the procedure began smooth enough.
Facing the mirror I slipped my head through the neck opening, noticing how nice the blouses color made my eye's brighter, this made me smile.
This was a good thing.
To save time I slipped both arms into the sleeves at the same time.
This was not good.
You see the blouse body was comfortably loose with bell sleeves. The neck had lifted with the upward thrust of my arms into the sleeves causing a slightly uncomfortable tightening up under my chin. My arms were up so the blouse, in theory, could slip easily down into place. It would have worked, if it hadn't been for two of the slightest of slight miscalculations on my part.
Both related to size.
Bell sleeves are so named because of the bell shape being slightly smaller at the top while widening as it goes down the arm. My arms, I discovered a smidgen to late, are not necessarily smaller at the top, but rather thicker there...
There I stood looking into my own eye's, with both arms wedged upright over my head, secure in the confines of the now stretchless sleeves, my head looking as though it were resting on a pretty blue platter.
"Humm!Whell this isn't good." I muttered to the reflection in that mirror.
Obviously the blouse needed to come back off...
I reached with one hand for the opposite sleeve to pull. However, this movement caused the blouse to shift ever so slightly, rendering my arm out of reach. And you know the funny thing about that action is that it also does the same thing if tried with the other arm reaching for the other sleeve.
Sort of like a see-saw.
I know this because I tried it...a few times. Causing those lovely bell sleeves to snuggle just a little tighter around my upper arms while the belled cuff's wilted entirely out of reach.
"Oh scrud!" (that's a Utah word I think), "Now what am I going to do?" my mind went blank while I leaned over, as if the slight gravitational pull would cause the blouse to travel in reverse.
It did not.
It did however, cause the cuff's to flip back down to my wrists. I stood back up repeating the see-saw move, this time while traveling in a small circle, first one direction, the the reverse. Because going in circles might help right?
All this activity achieved nothing.
Standing back up to consult the still platter headed reflection on what steps to take next, I noticed she was slightly more ruffled than I.
Standing there with my orangutan posture I thought, "Please don't let me have to walk out of here for help. I would rather have to pay for a torn blouse than that!"
Tipping upside down once again,I managed to grasp the edge of one sleeve and hang on.
This was it!
I tugged slightly and felt the fabric encasing my wedged arm give ever so slightly. I tugged again with the same results.
By repeating this process in quick succession I was able to sufficiently free up one arm enough to relieve the tension under my chin, and in turn relieve the strangle hold the other sleeve had on me. Standing up straight now I was able to shimmy the shirt up far enough to lower my arms and remove it entirely.
I meticulously checked all the seams to be sure none were in jeopardy of coming undone from the near acrobatic experience.
It appeared to be in good shape.
Turning to the now totally rumbled reflection in the mirror I stated, "What say we don't do that ever again."
She must have agreed because we were out walking the next day.
By the way the perfect blouse... turned out to be a button up ;)
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