My Loft Experience….prepare yo self!

So….I have this little nuance called claustrophobia. Yep. There it is. It's out there. I usually get through tight spaces by repeating to myself that I can breathe.  There was this really awkward moment once in college at a spring fair where I tried to get into one of those balls that you get rolled around in….NOT a good idea. As soon as the door was closed in on me, I freaked out.  FREAKED.  Not one of my most Audrey Hepburn-esk moments, for sure. There has been, of course, other moments not so embarrassing, but certainly that stand out in my mind as moments of victory - like riding on an elevator in Kazakhstan that was made for LITERALLY two people, and we had four people crammed into the space.  I got through it by reminding myself I could breathe and to stay calm.  No problem.

Today was likely my MOST embarrassing moment with this ridiculous phobia.  Something about my lungs feeling smushed doesn't give me the giggles.

I went to the Loft today to buy some new fall clothes.  Whoo hoo!!!  I had some coupons and they were having an amazing sale.  I picked up some tops, pants, and cords and headed to the dressing room.  Some things were working well, some weren't.  I got to this blousy grey, beautiful shirt that I JUST KNEW would fit JUST FINE.  Well, after putting in on my arms and it being just a smidge tight should have given me some sort of hint that the shirt may not, in fact, fit me that well.  I, however, being stubborn, finished putting it on anyway.  Once completely on, well….it didn't fit.  I gave it one good laugh in the mirror, and then tried to take it off.  No bueno.  It wasn't budging.  The arms were too tight to raise well above my head, and I was afraid I'd rip it.  (Enter slight panic)…At this point, I'm still trying to think through ways to get this shirt off.  The thought does cross my mind to go Hulk style on it and just rip it and pay for it…but my inner frugal self wouldn't hear of it.  What else can I do?  I'm really starting to freak out…this thing really feels constricting at this point and I'm starting to feel like I can't breathe.  Soooooo…..I open my door to see if there might happen to be a sales lady in the dressing room.  Nope.  A lady admiring herself in the mirror at the front of the dressing room happens to look back at me and then look back at the mirror and then back at me again.  I think she realized I was in need of something.  I asked if she wouldn't mind helping me with my shirt…(enter my horror story).

She states, "Oh, sure, you need me to unzip it??".  Nope.  I lightly mention, "I need you to take it off of me."  And by the way, it didn't even occur to me to put any pants back on.  That's right, folks. You heard me. I was desperate. I let a complete stranger (hero!!) into my dressing room to help me take this shirt off like a mother would a child.  Not to mention, I was also wearing my spanx bra, which is probably the ugliest bra a woman can buy in my opinion (and my husbands!)…but it reduces or eliminates back fat - it's here to stay.  So, in she comes.

As I try my best to lift my arms above my head so she can just pull it over, the shirt gets stuck above my chest area.  I FREAK OUT.  I can't breathe.  I HAVE to open my dressing room door and stick my head out as I tell the woman I'm really about to freak out, and she starts to look very fearful. I try to reassure her it will be fine, I just need to feel like I can breathe, pull the shirt back down, and suck in as much air as I can to make me feel better.  Soooo…she suggests we just open the door all the way with the phrase, "it's ok…no one's looking".  My modesty is now out the window because my lungs feel like they are being trapped in a tiny bottle.  Geez..  You may be asking yourself, "What would Jackie-O do in this moment?"  Well, my answer is that she would make sure she never gained enough weight to ever be trapped in any shirt…:)  So, I gotta do what I gotta do.

As I now cling to the wall in the dressing room and breathing fast, the lady tells me once again to lift my arms above my head. I do it. She keeps saying, "My goodness, you are soooo sunburned."  I, of course, know that I don't sun my skin.  I'm not sure what she could be talking about…but I don't care. I need this shirt off.  Finally!  She gets it edged up over each shoulder blade…and then IT'S OFF!!!  VICTORY!!!  All of a sudden the fact that I'm in my spanx bra and skivvies ONLY quickly hits me.  You could have poured awkward sauce all over this moment…The sweet (and scared) lady makes sure I'm better, and she exits the room as I am saying over and over again how sorry I am and how embarrassed I am.

I will say that although she seemed calm through the entire episode (especially as compared to me)…when she exited, she accidentally walked in to another person's dressing room as they were dressing…ha.  Poor thing…she'll probably be talking about this moment for years to come.

Once composed, I looked at myself in the mirror.  I could now see what she was talking about - my back was blood red - I was so freaked out that my sensitive skin revealed what my inner self was thinking.  My neck will do the same thing when I'm nervous.  Yep…no sunburn here…just pure embarrassment.  I was shaking so badly, and was SO embarrassed, I had to sit in my dressing room for another 15 minutes just to make sure that (hopefully) this sweet older woman had already exited the store.

OMG.  I felt like I escaped death today.  But not for the sake of my ego.  It's completely withered to nothingness :)  (which is why I'm telling you this story…)