A Span­ish re­tailer telling me I’m a large rubbed me up the wrong way

Wicklow People (West Edition) - - LIFESTYLE - Jus­tine O’Ma­hony

THIS week’s sub­ject mat­ter is un­der­wear – knick­ers to be ex­act so don’t say you haven’t been warned! For those of you of a sen­si­tive dis­po­si­tion I sug­gest you turn the page, or buy an­other news­pa­per. On sec­ond thoughts I want to keep my job so don’t buy an­other news­pa­per just turn the page!

Any­way I di­gress. As I men­tioned last week I went on hol­i­days for seven days and packed an ex­ces­sive amount of un­der­wear only to dis­cover I needed more, half way through the va­ca­tion. With­out go­ing into too much de­tail I had packed the wrong colours, the wrong shape, just the wrong knick­ers so off I went to buy more.

Do you know how hard it is in Spain to find a pair of knick­ers with an ac­tual back­side in them? As in a good sturdy pair with a front and back to them not just two pieces of string and a sliver of polyester in be­tween? It is prac­ti­cally im­pos­si­ble.

Af­ter vis­it­ing sev­eral re­tail out­lets I fi­nally tracked down a nice lit­tle shop that sold cot­ton knick­ers with back­sides in them. There wasn’t a huge se­lec­tion, but enough to serve my pur­poses. So I’m stand­ing at a shelf where all the proper knick­ers are with a box of size medium undies in my hands when the shop as­sis­tant comes over, takes one look at me and shakes her head.

‘No, no no, you are a large,’ she an­nounces mat­ter of factly. My first re­ac­tion was, ‘cheeky wagon! How dare she!’ My sec­ond re­ac­tion which came sec­onds later, was ver­bal. ‘I beg your par­don? I am NOT a large. I have never been a large in my life.’

Now look be­fore you all jump down my throat, there’s noth­ing wrong with be­ing a size large but the fact of the mat­ter is, I have never been a size large. Ever. So for some­one, com­pletely un­in­vited to tell me I’ve been wear­ing the wrong size all my adult life, well, you know, it rubbed me up the wrong way.

My de­nial didn’t seem to bother her at all, in fact it made her more de­ter­mined to prove the point. ‘Si, Si, yes. In Spain you are def­i­nitely a large,’ she said as her fin­ger swept over my body from head to toe. She then pro­ceeded to take the afore­men­tioned un­der­wear out of the box and hold them up against me, smil­ing smugly whilst demon­strat­ing said items would fit my girth per­fectly.

What did I do? Well I did what any self-re­spect­ing cow­ardly Ir­ish per­son would do – I bought the bloody knick­ers rather than cause a scene. I’d em­bar­rassed my­self enough al­ready. I prac­ti­cally ran back to the apart­ment to try them on, vi­su­al­is­ing them pool­ing down around my an­kles.

They didn’t. They were a lit­tle roomy but the truth is – they stayed up.

Some­times your per­cep­tion of your­self is to­tally dif­fer­ent to how oth­ers see you.

Still don’t think I’m a large though!

‘NO, NO NO, YOU ARE A LARGE,’ SHE AN­NOUNCES MAT­TER OF FACTLY. MY FIRST RE­AC­TION WAS, ‘CHEEKY WAGON! HOW DARE SHE!’

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