I’m trying to catch
up on some of my magazine reading and have just read Woman’s Weekly Fiction
Special from March – yes, you see how far behind I am! As ever there were some wonderful stories in
amongst the pages – especially from my favourites, Teresa Ashby, Wendy
Clarke and Joanna Campbell. I also enjoyed the story by Linda Povey, who is
part of an online writer’s group I used to be a member of.
But what really made
me laugh out loud was Jane Wenham-Jones’ description of getting stuck in a
dress she was trying on and having to call a friend to get her out of it. What amused me most was not her predicament,
but the fact that it took me back to a time when a similar thing happened to
me.
Not long after my
youngest was born, I was going to a wedding and needed a new dress. I went into a shop, much posher than I would
normally dream of entering, and saw a beautiful dress on a hanger. Unfortunately for me the dress looked much
nicer on the hanger than it did on me so I decided that it was a
non-starter. The only problem was when I
tried to take it off, it had cleaved to me like a second skin and was not going
anywhere. My throat went dry, my heart
started to beat faster and I could feel the sweat starting to slick as the
seams on the dress stretched to the point of bursting. I had visions of me ending up with a ripped
dress and either having to sneak it back in the shop or having to buy it
anyway.
Eventually, though,
I did manage to get it off, and in one piece, and it was only then that I
realised there was a zipper on the side which would have prevented me from doing
the changing room work out!
Funnily enough, I
haven’t been back to that shop since.
