Addendum: First past the post politics burnt on the bonfire first, followed by today’s 101….
The thing i would like to toss on today’s metaphorical bonfire (with a generous lashing of gasolene)?
Changing rooms in clothes shops.
My top 3 worst things about these cubicles of horror:
a) curtains that are way too small
b) three-way mirrors
c) total inconsistency in what i look like
So let’s take them in turn as all warrant a severe dressing down (ha ha, did you see what i did there?!)
a) I call them curtains but they could more usefully be described as a midget’s hand towel. Certainly, the only place they could possibly serve as window dressing would be in a child’s dolls house.
It usually takes me at least 10 minutes to work out whether the right or left opening is best sacrificed to peeping toms and / or whether i can hold the thing shut with one hand while simultaneously standing on one leg and hopping about like an unbalanced pogo sticker trying to get one trouser leg on.
b) I know women are vain, but women are also daydreamers, fantasists, especially when it comes to their own body image. Why an earth do we need 3 mirrors, all placed at different angles so that we can see our bodies in all their 360 degrees of glory?
When did we say we wanted to see our bottoms straight on? Our wobbly arms from the full benefit of front, side AND rear view?
Why can’t you leave us with the one remaining fantasy we cling to that our rear view is actually okay? That in motion it doesn’t really wobble as much as it feels like it does?
And the worst thing about it is that they’re so carefully positioned that you can usually see the reflection of the reflection of the reflection of your bottom in each mirror. Why in god’s name would i choose to have my fat arse tesselated like a screensaver in tile mode?
c) If mirror=reflection, why do i look different in every mirror i see myself in? The real problem here is that i always seem to visit the shops with the thinny mirrors first. I get lulled into a false sense of security. Then each shop after this seems to offer a progressively fatter image of me.
My typical shopping trip goes something like this.
Mirror no.1) ” Wow, I actually look okay in this. Maybe i haven’t put on as much weight as i thought”
Mirror no. 2) “hmmm, that’s not so good, ok maybe this is just an unflattering mirror”
Mirror no. 3) Jesus Christ, ive really let myself go,…No, not the rear view, please not the rear (exit sharpish and head straight to Starbucks to console myself with a quadruple chocolate muffin).
Still, I expect it could be worse.
I remember the days when all changing rooms were communal. You had to put up with all those skinnies feigning disgust “Oh Juliette, i just look sooooo fat in this”.
I was young then, and i didn’t like it.
Thank goodness privacy won over, even if i do have to make do with a piece of kitchen towel to hide my modesty.