Monday, January 21, 2008

Time for a Shopping Rant

Yes, the ranting around here has been a bit quiet of late. Have to say I'm not sure why, its not that my surly approach to the world has dimmed any, nosiree. Perhaps it was all that Christmas cheer? filled with the joy of spending time with my family I no longer felt the need to... oh no, no, no. Am not even going to dignify the end of that sentence with an end. Hmm.

Writing's been the same. All a bit MEH, so the blog is not alone.


And yes you just knew there'd be a however.

In my quest to lose 18kgs I've passed the first hurdle of losing 1kg (okay so its baby-steps people) and therefore decided that I'd earned a shopping spree... Okay, I went through my wardrobe and tossed out everything stained/shrunk/odd shade of pink/made my boobs look like a new layer of chin. I was left with one brown t-shirt. Yes, Brown. But still, I have lost 1kg, so that should be included as well.

So having carefully consulted Trinny and Suzanna, and found how best to cover my tuck-shop lady upper arms (cap sleeves make your upper arms look like they're wearing a swimming cap apparently), where to put my ginormous boobs, what to do with my muffin top stomach and how to conceal my large thighs, stumpy legs and fat ankles - having found out all of that - I hit the shops.

I was ready to shop, I was going to spend money. Whatever it took. I needed a new wardrobe and the credit card was clear and begging for action. Then the lady in Myer would only let me take six items into the change room (I had seven). I growled. She was young. I won.

Still it was depressing. The overhead lighting turned my lipstick at garish hot pink and sucked every other hint of colour away. There was nothing. NOTHING. I left, promising myself at DJs there'd be more choice, 3/4 length sleeves and nothing in dreadful soul-destroying ice blue.

Then I met Attila the Change Room Lady. Attila did not take kindly to my eight items ("DJs only allow you five because of all the thieves," she explained, eyeballing me as if I was Winona Ryder). Well fine. But then she made me wait. Yes. Her two change rooms were filled to the brim with customers who only had five items. However, the changerooms just a few metres away were empty, I could see open doors. So I took my eight items and pottered off in that direction. Attila was having none of it. She was not tolerating a DISOBEDIENT customer. Oh no. Abandoning her post she sprinted after me and loudly claimed that she had to escort me to the changerooms and explain to that attendant that I was only allowed five items. FIVE. ONLY FIVE. NO MORE THAN FIVE.

At that point I explained that I didn't want any items and left DJs.

Across the way was David Lawrence. There the helpful assistant understood about tuckshop-lady arms and ferried my selection of goods to the change room for me. When I asked if I had too many she looked quite horrified. "Oh no, you can have as much as you want," she said. Bliss. Needless to say I spent a Great Deal Of Money.

1 people love me:

Sami said...

So they're saying they wouldn't notice if you went into the change room with 8 items and came out with 2, and looking 8 months pregnant when you'd been a svelt, minus 1kg on the way in? I'm guessing there's no IQ test to be a change room attendant at DJ's.

Once when I asked if they had any size 5 in a particularly pretty pink strappy sandal that I'd fallen in love with, the woman looked at me as though I were mad. Then she looked at my feet, clearly thinking my freakishly tiny appendages were at fault for the store's inability to meet my shopping needs.

Sorry anyone who works at DJ's. I've never had a good customer service experience there. Not one. I feel your pain.