I didn't sign up for Extreme Makeover tootsie

Late Friday afternoon I decided to attend a Christmas party on Saturday evening and I had absolutely nothing to wear. Not even in the way women typically mean it - I actually had nothing that fit properly that would be the suitable level of "dressy". Friday evening was completely booked, as was most of Saturday, which left me approximately 1-1.5 hours Saturday morning to find something suitable. I knew of one store that was nearby-ish that might have something so I popped in - and encountered super-cheerleading-sales-girl-from-hell. Within 3 minutes I knew I couldn't stand her, and if I wasn't so desperate for something to wear, I would've left immediately. At first it seemed like she was just going to try to be my new best friend, but no, I was wrong. It got worse. She had decided she was going to be my new life coach, my new therapist, the person who would mold and shape me into the person she thought I should be... even though she knew nothing about me.

I found an outfit I liked - an outfit as close to what I had pictured in my mind as I was going to find on such short notice. A cute black skirt with a bit of a fun touch, and a deep red v-neck sweater that would match my new lip gloss perfectly and would look great with a pendant I love. She told me I looked 85. I hadn't asked. Unimpressed by my lack of agreement, she then continued by telling me that the top didn't have enough structure to go with the skirt.

I was still going through potential outfits and requested a pair of black pants with pink and grey pinstripes in a larger size (which I didn't recall there being). She returned with really trendy, glittery clothes I had purposely bypassed, and a lecture about how, since I was obviously under 30, I needed to wear this stuff now because I wouldn't be able to when I was 40 and I would regret it. Because she knows enough about me to know what I would regret? I came here for a black skirt, not a pep talk/self-esteem boost and I don't have time for your glittery fuchsia atrocity. This isn't a bad reality makeover show. My style may be subdued and conservative, but I like it, and who I am. And while I agree that people occasionally need a push to try something new, it's not happening today, when I'm getting an outfit for my first work party at my new job, when I only have 30 minutes to find something, and when I'm being pushed into it by a sales girl who is so bad she can't even a)assess me well enough to find something "funky" that I'd still like and would fit into who I am and b)can't even be trusted enough, or has such lousy taste in clothes, that she actually thinks these pants that are WAY TOO SMALL look good on me. If your judgement is that bad, what makes you think I'm going to trust you enough to be the one to add a whole new edge to my wardrobe?

It was psychological warfare in the dressing room, and despite my issues with saying "no" to sales people, I'm proud to say I won. I bought the black skirt and the red sweater. When she said *again* that she didn't think they should go together, I told her I was wearing the skirt with a different top. Yes, it's lame that I had to lie to her, but in the end, I got the outfit I wanted, and I wore it the way I wanted to, and I looked pretty darn good (if I do say so myself - and I don't even have to say so myself - when I saw my boss, she made the comment that she thought I said I had nothing to wear, and when I told her I had gone shopping that morning, she (unnecessarily) said that I looked good. As did my mother.) I won. And I didn't feel at all guilty for shunning all her choices. I was proud of myself. And so treated myself to a gingerbread latte from Starbucks. And tried to call my sister and my friend to tell them of my horrible shopping experience. And laughed at the fact that I was one of *those people* who was walking down the street in downtown Toronto, drinking my latte and talking on my cell phone. But at least I wasn't wearing an ugly glittery fuchsia halter top.