*WARNING - RANT AHEAD*
Today, I had one of those vivid detailed dreams that completely disorients you upon wakening. I dreamt that I had overslept till 4 in the afternoon and completely missed the reading at the theatre today. My bed was also in one of the cubicles at work. So I got up, checked my phone and no one had even called to see why I wasn't there. Upsetting. So I decided I didn't need to try to make the company meeting which was already starting and I got dressed and went to the mall. Now there is no way that I am going to be able to explain this mall to you. It was like a museum mall. It was huge, with a parking structure several stories high and escalators going up into the sky. It was a labyrinth and and there were people every where and games in the corridors and some of the passages were waist high with water and of course I chose to jump right into those. I made my way to a 2 story room to meet some friends for lunch. This room was painted red and full of Satan related folk art and the idol from the Exorcist was fluttering up near the ceiling and we all sat down and I started whining about how depressed I was and everyone just talked over me. Then I woke up. Random.
So later on after the reading and the meeting which I managed to make, I realized I really needed to go to the mall and once there I realized the meaning of the dream. The Mall is truly hell.
First I'm there because I need to buy new bras. Clearly this is not a pleasure shopping trip anyway. There are few things more depressing and this trip turned out to be so much more so than normal. I go to JC Penney (yes I buy my bras at JC Penney, they don't make them in my size at any place classy) and I find my lovely full size rack (ha!) and I find my normal bras. First, they don't have the size that I need. So I try the next size down (don't). As I try them on I realize that they have made some subtle alterations in the material used. Bad ones. This is all very bad. I stare at myself in the mirror, flesh popping and gushing out over this new seamless wonder elastic everywhere. I begin to have my daily breakdown realizing there are few things more hideous than my nakedness on the face of the earth. I laugh as I realize that the bra which claims to cover my back rolls has actually made new ones that weren't there before. I put my nice ratty falling apart bra back on and take the torture device back out. I then proceed to circle said rack for at least 10 minutes hoping that the correct size will magically appear. It doesn't. So then I decide to look at Nordstom's. I have a $50 gift certificate it will all be much better.
Nordstrom's. I loathe Nordstrom's. I can't even explain. It's so pretentious in a wannabe noveau riche kinda way. I go upstairs to the lingerie department. What a laugh, it's this tiny corner of the store. They carry 3 brands, none of which I've ever heard of before and there is clearly no "buy one, get 50% of the 2nd" sale going on. I suddenly feel like I have gained another 50 pounds and my sundress has become a tacky muumuu. I wander in, wincing every time some salesgirl cheerfully asks if I need help. They do have larger sizes here but they all seem to be on the bottom rack. That's right make the fatty bend down, fuck you. So I sit on the floor like it's Barnes and Noble and start digging through looking for something. Suddenly I get a lovely whiff of my underarm area. Yep, I sweat and I smell bad. I just can't take it. I can't try on the $50 bra when I have BO, I'm too disgusting for words! So I left. I nearly ran out of the store. I just want to go home and never impose my presence on mankind again. Instead I change my clothes (as I can no longer stand the muumuu) and go see Cabaret, which was awesome, but whilst I'm there I'm introduced to someone who I attempt to make conversation with and I'm pretty sure she just thought I was an idiot, which is true actually. She was asking me what I do as the literary manager of the theater and I seriously couldn't answer her. She asked who my favourite playwrights were and the best I could come up with was Shakespeare and Pinter. I'm an ass and she was plainly aware of it. She looked at me as though I were stuttering nonsense. This is why I don't talk, I ramble and make people uncomfortable. Awesome best ego boost day ever.
I mean look I'm big I know, but I'm not gargantuan! Why can't I have a bra that fits and is still sexy and can be worn with tank tops!? Why is this so much to ask!? Because Satan runs fashion and hates fat people. Jesus hates us too.
P.S. Fuck you JC Penny, I can order online direct from Maidenform for less. Ha! I never have to go through this again!
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