I stood in the H&M dressing room, desperately trying to hold back the ginormas rock in my throat. A beautiful, slim black dress fell down me, but I wanted to cry anyways. Today was supposed to have been my lucky day. I only feel like shopping about 5-6 days out of the year, and today was one of them. I wildly grabbed every cute article of clothing my eyes caught, the pile in my arms, my dad's arms, and my mom's arms quickly increasing. I'm guessing there had to be at least 35 to 45 things to try on. And just my luck... nothing fit.Now you would think that the sensible thing to do would be to simply get the next size up, but oh no, it wasn't that simple. I asked the dressing room lady to get the next size up in a blouse, and it wouldn't fit. Again, another size up, and it didn't fit, because now the straps were falling off of my shoulders or the waist looked too frumpy. Out of the 40 or so things I tried on, not one single thing I liked.
Those mannequins are quite deceiving. They're tall and friendly, with a magical assortment upon them. You just HAVE to try on what they're wearing because it's the most amazing thing you have ever seen. And then you are discouraged by the truthful fact that this gorgeously made top looks fat on you. (I secretly think that fashion designers have lived in their own world for far too long. Not every woman is 5 ft 9 inch. I happen to be 9 inches shorter than that.)
I walked out of the store, ready to just go home and cry myself to sleep because I must have the most awkward body in the world. My dad held my hand trying to comfort me with things like, "Not everything works. We'll just keep looking." We were almost out the Mall doors when my mom saw a lovely black and purple blouse. "That would look great on you!" she exclaimed. "No, It would just make me look fat," I remarked in an exhausted voice. Ignoring my words, she pulled me into Express Women's.
A kind woman working there made small talk with me and complimented my figure. She gave me the cute blouse in the window display in an XS. Though it was nice of her to think me so small, I knew she was wrong. When she left I grabbed a medium. I dragged my legs to the sale rack and found and adorable pair of khaki shorts, size 2. I was not a size 2 by a long shot, but they strangely looked like they would fit. What did I have to loose? I walked towards the fitting room, and a perky girl named Allie introduced herself to me and said to ask her if I needed any help. "Thanks," I mumbled. And to my astonishment.... it fit! .... And I looked good.
"Oh my gosh you look adorable!" Allie squealed. I explained to her my tear-jerking fiasco at H&M and she nearly burst into tears right their. "I'm just so happy that you're happy," she said with a bright smile. I liked her. So in the end I bought the pants, the blouse, and a black vest. I scanned the store one last time, and then I saw it - a green scarf. Immediately the image of Ilsa Fisher lying to Hugh Dancy to get money so she could by the green scarf popped into my head. (If you haven't seen it, Confessions of a Shopaholic is the best chic flick ever.) And what luck, my green scarf was on sale for $15, and 40% off that! It seemed like a cheesy version of a Christmas miracle. But then it hit me like a Frisbee. This Green Scarf was the perfect illustration of God's second chances and unexpected ways. I was expecting to go into H&M and come out with bags full of clothing I bought all by myself, but that didn't happen. I was discouraged when things didn't go my way, and then God blessed me with a confidence booster. Things may not go as we plan, but it's usually because God has something better for us down the road.
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