Dressing room mirror bitch slap
Recently a friend called me, and instead of the usual "What UP girl?" I heard a sequence of squealing that surrounded the phrase "stupid asshole dressing room mirror bastards!"
Among her F-Bombs and weeping was the name of a local department store, whose dressing rooms I am unfortunately quite familiar with.
It seems my friend went in to try on some of summer's pretty frocks, and came out empty-handed, feeling like Jabba the Hutt on his period.
I calmed her down as best as I could, reassuring her that she was divine, and that the store's three-way mirrors hated women. I then bribed her with promises of a cookie while insisting she was the loveliest creature I knew.
But now I am thinking: Maybe the mirrors don't hate women. Maybe the store simply hates returns. Maybe horrifyingly unflattering mirrors do us shoppers a favor.
Dressing room mirrors that make us look our absolute worst may be a gift to those of us who don't have a girlfriend who can tactfully say: "Yes, you are beautiful. Just not from behind while wearing slim-cut white linen trousers."
Also, we're all very busy these days, what with kids starting summer break and a new season of True Blood to catch up on, that we should thank department stores with relentless mirrors. Who has time to shop and then come back to return all the items that make you look like Steven Tyler raided a women's thrift store? Not me, that's for sure.
I prefer to know I look like Hell in a Handbag before I plunk down my MasterCard for the season's trendiest tops in colors that absolutely do not flatter me in the least.
I am happy to jump back in fright at the creature donning an ill-fitting dress, that might even be on backwards, who has a strong resemblance to me after a night of binge-drinking and salted pretzels. Once I catch my breath, I can toss that dress into the "No" pile and move on.
I say, bring on the Bitch Slap of Dressing Room Mirrors, and keep clothes shopping honest. If I can't have the team from What Not To Wear accompany me each time I decide to freshen up my wardrobe, I'll at least take whatever help I can get.
Even if it means I have to listen to a venomous three-way mirror spit "You're kidding, right??" at me a few times before I get the perfect outfit to bring home with me that day.