When Irrational Fears Aren't That Irrational

I have a few irrational fears:

1. Sleeping with doors open.
2. Getting meningitis - viral or bacterial.
3. Soup (excluding potato and broccoli cheese).
4. Getting stuck in clothing.

One of those four things has happened.  I recently got stuck in an article of clothing, and I'm here to tell you about it.

I know I am not the only person who fears this.  I'm not talking about all clothing.  If you get stuck in a button down shirt, you're an idiot.  However, any article of clothing with a zipper is a trap.  Pants included.  Just because the zipper is short does not me you can't get stuck.  People get stuck in pants -- for a number of reasons.

I love dresses and skirts.  I hate pants of all kinds, so it's safe to say I did not get stuck in a pair of pants.  So, there I was in a store (that shall remain nameless because if there's footage of this I don't want you to have the opportunity to find it) looking at clothes because I didn't have anything else to do.  I had zero intention of buying anything because I am out of hangers.  If I don't buy anymore hangers, I can't buy anymore clothes.  That's logic.  

I saw a really cute dress, full of personality, and it was on sale.  I mean, I can fold one of the shirts in my closet and stick it in my dresser if I have to.  I decided to take this dress to the fitting room and try it on.  That was my first mistake.

I hate shopping because when you're tall and built like Stretch Armstrong stretched out (same bust size), you have to try on everything.  Trying on clothes is a time consuming pain.  You have to take off all of your clothes.  (Except your underwear.  Take that off, and you disgust me.)  You try something on and you go through one of three emotions:

1. I am hideous.
2. I think I look OK?
3. I am the hottest thing, like, ever!  Drinks all around!

So, that's a pain.  Your self-esteem is either crushed or boosted, or you don't know if it's worth it to spend the money on something to just "try and make it work because Aztec patterns are so in, right now."

I'm in the dressing room and I think to myself, "Just leave your cami on.  It's tight enough that it won't make a difference."

Wrong.

I put on this dress, zip it up the back, it fits like a glove, and I'm satisfied.  I reach up the back, grab the zipper, and it's stuck.

It is one thing to get stuck in a dress in the privacy of your own home or when your friends are at a store with you.  But when you get stuck in a dress alone, panic sinks in.  I tried and I tried and the zipper would not budge.  It has an empire waist, so I couldn't get it over my non-existent bust.  How does that even happen?  If I can't get something over my chest, no one can.

I'm panicking, so therefore I start sweating.  Plus, it's 90 degrees outside.  I started sweating 18 degrees ago.  I was not made for the heat!  Why was I born here?

I walked out of my fitting room and just stood out in the open of the fitting room hall sweating, trying to unzip this dress, hoping someone - anyone - would walk by and assist me.  What seemed like 30 minutes later (it was really like three minutes), a lady came out of her fitting room and I stared at her with my blue, doe-eyes, and said, "This is an odd question.  Can you get me out of this dress?"

I thought the next time I'd have to say that would be to my future husband, but it was a lady in a fitting room.

She put all of her clothes down and started trying to unzip it, but alas, it was stuck to my "skin tight, won't get in the way," cami.  So there's a lesson.  Take off your cami next time.  She just kept trying and saying that it was really stuck.  So now I'm in a state of fear that I'm going to have to buy this dress because I can't get out of it.  And the shoes I had did not match, so it was just going to be even more embarrassing.

Another girl came out of her fitting room and said, "Cute dress!"  To which I replied, "Yeah, if it ever comes off."  She didn't laugh, and I felt more defeated.

Finally, I told her if she had to put a hole in my cami, I am willing to sacrifice it.  So she did.  And she unzipped the dress, and we threw our hands in the air, and the lady saw my underwear because the dress zipped down that far, but I DO NOT CARE.  They are cute panties and I was free.

I ended up buying the dress because I sweat like a banshee screams in it, and I couldn't put it back based on morals.  Now I own a new dress and I think I'll just wear it this evening to Hollytree because it's hot and I've already sweat in it.

And that's the story of when I got stuck in a dress.  One irrational fear down.  Three to go.