It’s that time of the week again. StoryTime! If you’re new to this segment, StoryTime is a part of my blog, posted every Friday, where I relate the random experiences, mine or otherwise, that may or may not be fictional. Your job is to decide which is which.
DISCLAIMER: CHARACTER NAMES AND PLACES MAY BE ALTERED FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS SEGMENT. ANY SIMITLARITIES BETWEEN SAID CHARACTERS AND REAL LIFE INDIVIDUALS ARE COMPLETELY COINCEDENTAL.
For this StoryTime, we’re going to be talking about a topic so controversial, so thought-provoking, so outlandish…..yes that’s right, I’m talking about Shopping!………Don’t give me that look okay? Shopping is a very stressful, serious business, ill-fitted for the faint of heart. So get off your high horse and have a read. Let’s see if you can make the right deduction this time round.
People go shopping for a variety of reasons. In this particular scenario, my friend, Linda, was finally going on a date with her long time crush and she needed the input of her 2 best girl pals, yours truly and Onyinye (To be clear, Onyinye is LINDA’S friend, not mine. Personally I find Onyi boo to be a bit of a twat, but Linda loves her, so I just suck it in whenever we’re together. That doesn’t mean I won’t trip her ass up given half the chance).
So we took a trip to Westfields (also known as Shopping Nirvana), and I suggested that we head over to New Look first because not only are they affordable and trendy, but they’re size inclusive and Linda and I tend to be on the curvy side (Comfortable size 14s baby). Linda loves New Look, but Onyi boo had other ideas. She reasoned that if Linda really wanted to impress her date, she should go all out and take a step out of her comfort zone, so she suggested that we all go to Ted Baker (Like I’d be able to step anywhere with a Ted Baker dress cutting off my air circulation. And who wears Ted Baker to a date at NANDOS? Some people like to live on the wild side. Keep forming gangster until you get an unremovable stain on an £120 dress).
Linda, being the sweetheart that she is, said we could try both. So we went to Ted Baker first because it was the closest store. Now Linda and I knew that we weren’t really going to buy anything there, we just wanted to browse a bit and giggle at the constipated looking mannequins. But I don’t think Onyi got the memo. As soon as we stepped in, she spied this beautiful silver, multi strap midi dress that she swore would look perfect on Linda. Initially, Linda refused, but Onyi kept insisting until she capitulated. However there was a catch: Linda said she’d be open to it if we ALL tried it on. Onyi squealed in delight, grabbed the nearest store attendant and asked her to bring the dress in two size 14s & a size 10.
The store attendant looked at Linda and I skeptically (Madam, what are you trying to imply? You know what, I was going to refuse and respect myself, but I’ll be damned if I don’t squeeze myself into that dress just to prove a point. You might be slimmer, but at least I don’t have a nose that would put a sickle to shame) and went to fetch the dresses. Now for those of you that aren’t aware of this, Brand dress sizes are different in the sense that most of them are smaller. If you’re a size 10 normally, you’d go for a size 12 (Don’t ask me about the logic. It is what it is).
We then enter the dressing room and take a stall each. My stall was right next to Linda’s. Now I did mention before that Linda and I are curvy. I had the hips, she had the boobs. So it wasn’t a problem for me to get the straps of the dress over my top half. The problem was pulling the dress down over my lower half. I was grunting with the effort, sounding like a woman in labour and through the partition, I could hear Linda having the same predicament. After a while, I finally gave up and took off the dress (Because I can’t come and kill myself & die on top of the matter).
As I was putting my clothes back on, I heard a loud RRIIIPPPPPP come from Linda’s stall. Time stood still. I paused for a minute and carried on with what I was doing, because I thought I had imagined it (My mind likes to play tricks on me whenever expensive items are involved). The next thing I knew, I heard Linda start crying. I rushed into her stall and I saw that she was half stuck in the dress with a rip in one of the straps at the back. I helped her peel off it off gently and we both assessed the damage. It wasn’t that bad (If you folded it just right, slipped it into your bag, walked out the store and disposed of the evidence, it would be fine). But of course, we couldn’t do that. So we mussolini-ed the dress back onto the hanger, walked out with an air of indifference, told the attendant that both dresses were too big for us (Don’t think she bought it) and started to make a run for it. Our escape was imminent.
We would have gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for that meddling brat Onyi. We’d almost forgotten about her. She came out from the dressing room, moaning about how she didn’t get to see how well our dresses fit, and then she reached for our hangers . The moment she touched them, Linda’s dress fell apart (Which is surprising really, given that it held together for that long on only hope and air). Long story short, Linda had to pay for the dress (£80 pounds to be exact) and Onyi was in the doghouse with Linda for 3 months which meant I had Linda all to myself (Petty I know, but I don’t care. Cue evil laughter!). So I guess all’s well that ends well.
So, what do you think? Truth or Fiction? Vote down below.
THANKS FOR READING!!
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