Trauma in a Fitting Room

The economy has gone South, shoppers aren't shopping, and there are many bored department store sales people just waiting for you to walk into their webs.

Last night I went to the mall to buy an evening gown. Sounds easy, yes? NOT. I am 5 ft tall, 40 lbs overweight and wear a 34 F bra. Basically, I have the body of a trophy wife who gained weight after having a breast augmentation.

I found a simple black dress and proceeded to have my sales girl call for alterations. When the alterations gal arrived, she was a lovely young Russian woman. As she started to adjust the straps, she said something in broken English and quickly left the room.

Minutes later, Vera arrives. Vera is in her 60's, seriously representing the European Eastern block, and is here to measure my breasts. Apparently, they were refusing to do the alteration unless I was wearing the correct bra for the occasion.

Before I know it, Vera is adjusting my boobs, the seamstress is tugging at my dress, and by now, there are two other sales people just watching because they have nothing else better to do. I felt like a hog at a 4H competition getting ready for judging.

Now they are all talking to each other in Russian. When I started trying to tell them that I didn't need a new bra, Vera, looked up at me and said, "Stop talking! I show you what you need." (honestly, she said that verbatim)

I was shocked, but, I did stop talking. I mean, what else is a girl to do? After I relinquished control and consciously suspended my disbelief, I found myself standing there looking better in a dress than I have in years.

After this fitting room experience, I have a strong respect for women who hone their craft and take pride in it. Since Vera and I were now intimately attached, I stayed to speak with her afterward.

She had been working at Bloomingdales since she came to America (10 years ago). There was no training for bra fitting so she started fitting the mannequins in the back room. She spoke no English so she surfed the internet looking for any instruction in Russian. Not being able to find any, she finally found a Russian plastic surgeon here in town. Vera took a part time job, on top of her job at Bloomis. By working for this surgeon, she was able to learn about properly fitting bras. After all, making a woman's breasts look perfect was his job.

Vera is a symbol of determination and ingenuity. She now runs the lingerie department, and confided in me that she make roughly 70,000 per year. So ladies, when you start to complaining about the dead ends in life.

Just think about Vera.