So every now and then I’ll see at myself in the reflection of a car window and think: “I’m not doing too badly. I mean, yeah, I could lose a few pounds — sure. Who couldn’t, right? But I’m not far off. Maybe I jog for a month. And maybe I cut back on sodas again. But basically — this not quite summer, when I really get active — I’m doing okay.”
So I’m all right with myself, right? But then I go to try some new clothes on and see myself in the dressing room mirror, and I’m like: “YARK! Who’s the baby whale?”
Seriously. I’ll be in the dressing room, and I just can’t believe this shirtless blob standing in front of me is actually me. So, forgetting the clothes I’m supposed to be trying on, I’ll try all these different poses, thinking, you know, maybe it’s the angle I’m at. Like, you know, the lighting is doing something funky in there that has somehow transformed me into my dad at 50.
But basically what it comes down to is this: Dressing rooms mirrors are evil.
I mean, really. What makes dressing room mirrors make you look so . . . whale-like? Is it some twisted ploy by department store researchers to get you to buy more clothes? If so, I’m not sure it works. Because the only thing I want to do at that point is cover myself with a blanket.
Or a tarp.
So now whenever I’m in a dressing room, I avoid looking at the mirror until I actually have the prospective new clothes on. And then I’m like: “Yeah. I’m not doing too badly here.”
Posted on May 28th, 2008 by Pat
Filed under: The World According to Pat
Couldn’t agree more, which is why I just don’t go in dressing rooms anymore. I just take it home, hope it works, if not, I take it back.
I think the mystery of dressing rooms boils down to two things:
First, pretty much all humans — unless you’re Brangelina — look better clothed. Second of all, the lighting in dressing rooms is easily the least flattering in creation … it makes everyone, even the perfectly tanned, look pale, sallow and flabby.
Not being great at eyeballing sizes, however, I pretty much have to try everything on. Plus, $4.50-a-gallon gas prices mean I’m not making any return trips to Target.
I remember fondly my first trip to the Shed Aquarium in Chicago. I saw Beluga whales for the first time. Nothing made me happier than those whales and their slowly flowing blubber and Madonna smiles (not the Material Girl you heathens).
But, I’m with you, when that is what I see in the mirror when I’m bargain shopping at the outlets in Pismo…well I end up going to Starbucks instead.
Maybe the trick would be a dressing room with a curtain in front of the mirror. You could just “voila!” after fully clothed.