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A Change of Perspective (in the Dressing Room at Walmart)
Della purposely averted her eyes from the full length mirror as she dragged the jeans up her legs. When she got them up to her waist, she sucked in her stomach and yanked the fly together. Holding both sides tightly in one hand, Della reached for the tab of the zipper and grimly pulled it up. When the zipper was fully closed, she struggled to slip the metal button through the buttonhole. Finally, buttoned and zippered, Della released her breath, dropped her blouse, and looked into the mirror.
"Shit," she mumbled to herself, followed immediately by a quick, "Excuse my language."
She always excused her language even when there was no one around. It was an old habit from her days in parochial school when she'd been whacked on the hands by Catholic nuns with rulers for each obscenity. Eying her reflection with distaste, she moved this way and that. She looked at herself in profile, then tried to see the fit of the jeans from the back. Gathering her courage, she confronted her image full-face and lifted the hem of the blouse just enough to see the belt loops, but not enough to expose the pale, flabby flesh that she knew would be hanging over the waistband. With a sigh, Della turned her back to the mirror and unfastened the pants. That had been one of the more painful experiences of her week, she thought with disgust. She struggled out of the too-small jeans and left them in an untidy pile on the floor. Reaching for her own pants, she slipped them on quickly and pulled her blouse over her waist and hips.
At forty-two years old, Della didn't really expect to fit into a perfect size 10 anymore. She didn't really expect to be a perfect size 12, either. Della would have been happy to be an imperfect size 12, in the 'relaxed fit' category. But, hell, she thought, mentally excusing her language again, she did NOT expect to be squeezing into size 14's! Especially since she still exercised, tried to eat sensibly, and still fit into the pants she'd worn three years ago! The pants she was wearing right now were of the size 10 relaxed fit variety and barely pinched!
The fact that they were threadbare on the thighs and across the butt and stretched to the max was beside the point. They were size 10! Wiping the light beading of sweat from her upper lip, Della thought to herself how much she hated clothes shopping. She hated the poorly lit cubicles that were so small you knocked your elbows on the walls when changing. She hated the long, wavy mirrors that reflected all too accurately every flaw. And she hated feeling that she was growing older, fatter, and just plain unattractive. Not that she was unattractive, but it was, Della believed, physically impossible to feel attractive in a Walmart dressing room. It was impossible to feel attractive in ANY dressing room, regardless of the store it belonged to!
Heaving another deep sigh, Della reached for the discarded garment, wondering how her husband even looked at her anymore. Right now she felt like a repulsive hippopotamus! She couldn't even fit into size 14s anymore! Maybe she was just premenstrual, Della thought morosely. She did bloat, but she'd never thought she bloated THAT much. Not one or two full clothing sizes!
This wasn't getting her anywhere, Della thought, wadding the garment she held into a ball. She just wanted to get out of here, but the threadbare state of all her pants made it imperative that she get new clothing. Too bad her company had dress codes. She was seriously considering just buying a bunch of men's sweat pants in size large and just living in them. She was also considering dumping her sporadic exercise program since it didn't seem to be doing any good at all. In fact, a large hot fudge sundae, loaded with Spanish peanuts and extra whipped cream was sounding pretty good right now. And a large double cheeseburger with extra bacon, and a real Coke, not a Diet Coke sounded even better! Damned if she wouldn't just march right out, grab her husband and drag him to the first fast food place she saw! Della was feeling so snappy at this moment, she purposely didn't excuse her language this time.
Mumbling angrily, Della tossed the wadded, offensive garment onto the bench and pushed the fitting room door open. She was usually so conscientious about putting things back where she'd gotten them, or at least leaving them for the fitting room attendant, but this time she churlishly left it where it was. Let someone else take care of it, she thought peevishly. Draping her purse over her shoulder, she yanked her blouse down as far as she could over her hips and headed resolutely to the 'women's' section. The evil fast food muse must be taking a nap right now, since she was able to resist the urge to binge. She looked around the women's section unhappily and moved toward the pants section. She'd been able to shop in the 'misses' section her entire adult life, and this was yet another severe blow to her ego. Della paused at the display of jeans. She pulled out a pair of jeans and held them up to her waist. And frowned. They seemed way too large! In fact, they even wrapped toward her back a bit on either side. Moving to the next smaller size, Della tried the waist test again, but these were also too large. She took a pair, anyway, and moved toward the fitting rooms again.
"Hey, Mrs. Stevens!"
Della turned around to see a couple of teens standing awkwardly at the very fringe of the women's clothing section. She recognized one of the boys as one who often came into the library where she worked. Smiling, she greeted him.
"Hi, Robert. Enjoying your summer?"
The young man seemed to flush a bit, but he said, "Oh, you know, its okay. Better'n being in school."
Della smiled more broadly, knowing that this young man loved school. The anti-school rap was probably for the benefit of his friend. She looked around. "Uh, shopping?"
Now the young man definitely flushed. "Naw. My mom is trying some things on. She's taking us to lunch after, so we have to wait."
Della gave him a last, sympathetic smile, remembering how her own teenage sons hated going 'clothes shopping' with her.
"Well, give your mother my best. Hope to see you in the library this summer."
Della turned toward the fitting rooms, wondering if Robert's mother, a pretty, petite woman with no discernable figure flaws, felt the same way about trying on clothes. How could she, Della wondered? The woman had a perfect shape and looked to be a size 6, or maybe an 8. She could probably fit into anything she tried on. When she reached the fitting rooms again, Della was disgusted to note that the only unoccupied room was the one she'd been in earlier. The detestable size 14 jeans were still wadded up in a ball on the small bench.
Heaving a sigh, Della tossed the jeans she was holding on top of the others. She turned away from the mirror and reached for her pants button when she heard one of the other doors open.
"Robert?" she heard a woman's voice call.
After a few seconds, Della heard the young men shuffling toward the fitting rooms. She smiled again as she pictured the twin looks of embarrassment and impatience the boys were probably wearing.
"Yeah, Mom?"
"Well, what do you think?" the woman's voice asked.
Della had long ago learned the futility of asking the opinion of teenaged boys. They hated being in the women's section, they were embarrassed to be with their mothers, despite how much they loved them, and they were only interested in getting out as fast as possible. The answer was inevitable.
"Geez, Mom. You look fine! You always look good. Are you ready to go yet? We're starved!"
Della could just picture Robert's mother rolling her eyes. She would have.
"Oh, all right. Let me change and we'll go."
The teens shuffled away, but the sound of the door opening and shutting roused Della from her momentary daze. She began to unbutton her pants when she heard the teen boys talking quietly to each other. They hadn't moved too far away, apparently wanting to be close by when Robert's mom came out of the dressing rooms to take them to eat.
"Dude! Your mom looks good!" the boy with Robert said quietly.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
Robert sounded embarrassed. Della didn't blame him. She couldn't imagine her sons' friends saying anything like that about her, but if they did, she knew Kit and Bill would probably be writhing in embarrassment. She was about to try on the pants she'd brought in with her. She stopped with one leg in and one leg out of the jeans when the boys continued.
"So, who was that woman?" the other boy asked.
"Who, Mrs. Stevens? She's a librarian down at the library. She used to help me out when I had to do research work. Why?"
"I dunno. Just the way you talked to her. It was--." The boy let the sentence trail off.
Della's brow wrinkled. Robert had talked to her the same way he always did. Shaking her head slightly, she slipped her other leg into the jeans.
"It was what?" Now Robert sounded a little irritated, maybe even embarrassed.
"I don't know, Rob, just, you know, kinda different. Not like you talk to your mom, that's for sure."
Della stared at the wall of the little cubicle. Robert's friend was NOT trying to say what it sounded like he was trying to say. It was just ludicrous. Even though he was now a senior and a very handsome seventeen, Della remembered when he was a lanky, gawky seventh-grader. She'd practically watched him grow up. The dressing room suddenly felt much stuffier. Della felt her cheeks growing red. The slight flush grew warmer at the next words.
"Well," Robert said, sounding a bit sheepish. "I kinda had a crush on her when I was a kid."
He paused for a second, and then hurried on. "I mean, don't you think she's kinda hot?"
Della sat abruptly, the jeans she was trying on completely forgotten. She was almost overcome with an almost hysterical urge to giggle. She couldn't believe she was listening to one of the children she'd helped study calling her 'hot'. It was just not right. Robert was the same age as her youngest, for God's sake. She excused herself mentally for taking the Lord's name in vain, but couldn't wipe the silly grin from her face. This was just unbelievable! Despite a vague feeling of guilt, Della listened eagerly to the rest of the conversation.
"Yeah, I guess," the other boy said. "She's not bad for an old lady."
Old! Della thought. I'm not THAT old!
"She's not old! She's only a few years older than my mom!"
You tell him, Robert! Della thought.
"All right, dude! I didn't mean anything!"
"Yeah, well, she's one of the coolest adults I know," Robert said, his voice still a little angry.
"Okay, already!" his friend said. "Let's drop it. When's your mom gonna get done?"
A dressing room door opened and Della heard Robert's mother speak to them.
"Boys? Oh, there you are. Just let me pay for these and we'll head for lunch. Where did you want to go?"
The voices drifted away and Della finally realized that she was sitting there, half-dressed, with a pair of jeans pooled around her ankles. Well, that had been unexpected. In fact, it had been a huge ego boost. Not only was she cool, but she was hot, as well. Della looked into the mirror and for once didn't see the dumpy, older woman she usually saw. She saw that her chestnut hair had almost no gray in it yet, her face was relatively unlined, and her hazel eyes were, really, pretty. She gave herself an experimental smile that turned into a goofy grin. All old ladies should have handsome young men compliment them. It did wonders for one's perspective. Standing, Della reached for the jeans and pulled them up. Who cared if they came from the women's section and were marked with waist sizes instead of 10's, 12's and 14's? She was a 'hot' old lady! Her husband would laugh, Della thought, when she told him. Pulling the jeans together she fastened them, and frowned again. There must be at least five inches of extra room here, she thought.
Looking at the tag again, Della shook her head. These would be about the equivalent of a size 16 from the misses department. And the 14 had barely fit. There must be something wrong. She hastily dressed again and took both pairs of pants out to the fitting room counter. Pulling out the tag on the smaller pair again, she reread it. And nearly fainted. Oh, my God, she thought. This pair was a GIRL'S size 14! No wonder it was so small! And she'd actually been able to fit it! Well, she corrected herself. She hadn't actually FIT the pair, but she'd been able to fasten them! Grinning again, Della decided that she'd had enough of shopping. She left both pairs on the counter and headed toward the electronics section to find her husband. Suddenly she was feeling very good about herself.
"Del! Over here!"
Della's husband was looking at the CD's when Della found him.
"What do you think of this one, babe?" he asked, holding one of the boxes up. "I thought maybe we could listen to it tonight if you're not doing anything."
Della took it and read the title. "'The Smooth Sounds of Hot Romance'?" She looked up at her husband of twenty five years and saw him eying her up and down. His eyes were very warm as they met hers.
"Did you do something different with your hair today?" he asked suddenly.
Della shook her head. "No, why?"
He shrugged and took the CD from her hand, taking the time to caress her as their hands met. He tossed it into their shopping basket. "Dunno, you look different." He leered at her playfully and added, "You look hot, babe!"
Della had to laugh. "That's the second time I've heard that today," she blurted out when her husband stared at her.
"Yeah?" he demanded, scowling. "Who else told you that?"
Still giggling, Della slipped her arm through his and laid her head against his chest. "It's a long story. I'll tell you about it over lunch. By the way," she said, tipping her head up and leering back at him. She was suddenly feeling very sexy and attractive. "What are YOU doing tonight?"
Author's note: no this is not autobiographical, even if I did borrow my sons' names (or middle names). Well, the part about feeling like a hippopotamus in the dressing room was pretty accurate, but I definitely don't have seventeen year old boys who think I'm hot. About the closest I get to that is when I storm into the room and demand to know where the boys hid the candy bars I just bought! "Where are the candy bars!?" Guilty smiles from the boys. "Are they in the closet?" "You're cold." "The cabinet?" "Getting warmer." "In the freezer?" "You're hot!" (I HATE frozen candy bars!) Anyway, it's not Draco/Ginny, but I hope you enjoyed. K
