The lovely, Lily from
was blogging about being trapped in her new shirt after trying it on and not being able to take it off and the lack of consideration from clothes-makers regarding elasticity! I mean, really! Poor Lily struggled and suffered emotional distress while trying to remove her clothing!
Well, she reminded me of an incident that I felt I must share with you (my friends), because after all, I am a very private person.
It was 2003, precisely 10 years ago and I was celebrating my 40th birthday. I know, you are thinking to yourself, “For the Love of God, she won’t shut up about her 50th and now is talking about her 40th?” I know…I know.
My kids were 9 & 7 and my husband 41 – but who’s counting? I took off for Spain for two whole weeks with the same crazy Latina cousins I partied with for my 50th. We were meeting my other cousin there who was also celebrating her 40th.
As you can imagine, it was the most wonderful two weeks sans kids or husband, with all girls – eating, drinking and touring. Oh, the stories… But, that’s for another post.
In order to leave my family in relatively good shape before the trip, I had to practically write, edit & publish a
book transcript with detailed instructions for my husband. It consisted of minute by minute, day by day lists of activities, pick up times, upcoming homework assignments, sports schedules, pending doctor’s appointments, labeled meals in the freezer, etc, etc and more etceteras.
As the trip was coming to an end and I looked at all the souvenirs (cha-chis) I had bought to bring back, I realized that I had nothing (zilch) for my husband! Now, in my defense, he hates cha-chis and knick knacks and I knew he would not appreciate a Spanish bull key chain, a fridge magnet or a flamenco dancer bobble-head.
I was at a loss.
During our return and after numerous connections and a long lay over at the Miami airport, I saw the bright light bulb popping up in my in my head. IDEA!
I left my cousins comfortably sitting at the gate and told them that I needed to buy something and that I would be back in a bit.
Off I went from store to store around the huge airport looking for what I knew would be the best present ever. My husband was going to absolutely LOVE it – even if it had not come from Spain.
I saw the small boutique and rushed right in. There were a few other women inside in addition to the sales person. I went through the racks and found the perfect item. They did not have it in my exact size, but I had walked a lot in Spain and surely, I had lost many lbs.
I went into the dressing room filled with excitement at the thought of seeing my husband’s face. I undressed and very carefully slipped on the soft, silky and delicate nightie over my head.
The dressing room consisted of a tiny room blocked by saloon style swinging doors that only covered my mid-section but left my legs and arms visible to all.
After realizing that “slipping” it on me was proving to be more difficult than anticipated, I decided I better not force the item over my well-endowed chest. I began to reverse my actions by attempting to remove the silky and delicate damn thingy, back over my head.
It was not moving. No give, whatsoever. No elasticity, no nothing. I. Was. Stuck. There would be no going up and no going down.
Panic set in. Oh shit, now what? Sweat began to pour down my forehead and into my trapped chest. I tried once more to tug only to hear the dreaded sound of, RIP… Ay, Dios Mio.
As I stood there with my arms trapped up in the air above the dressing room door, I had no other choice but to get on my tippy toes so I could peek out over the doors to summon the sales woman. Help Me…
After shimmying the nightie up above my arms and looking straight at my soon to be bare breasts, the sales woman succeeded. She set me free. As I stood naked and blushing profusely, I expressed my anger over the incorrect sizing that had taken place on that nightie. Obviously, someone sized it wrong and thus being the cause of my unpleasant experience!
I quickly exited the boutique. She had yet to notice the rip on the nightie and I was not going to stick around for that discovery.
I was going to arrive back home, empty-handed. Nada for my husband who had barely survived two whole weeks by himself with the kids.
However, all was not lost. Right before boarding our plane, us gals decided to get some gum and water at the gate store. As I was paying for my items I noticed the rack of magazines. There were the usual suspects (People Magazine , Us Weekly, Cosmopolitan Magazine, Time Magazine ), but what caught my attention was a different one.
Right in front of my eyes lay my saving grace. Aha! (another light bulb moment), a PLAYBOY Magazine. Of course! Why had I not thought of it before? What could the next best present (after cha-chis and a nighty) for my or anyone else’s husband possibly be? Why, Playboy, of course.
You see, when in a bind, Playboy is there to find!
Needless to say, my husband was happy to have me back home.