Skip to main content

Las Comadres Otra Vez


Shopping for a new dress, I heard two women enter the booth next to me.
“Aye, Comadre, you take the dressing room.  I’ll wait out here until  the other one empties.”
“No, Comadre, let’s share this one.  See?  It’s big.”
“Bueno, sí.  Okay.”
I heard muffled noises, hangers clinking,  and heavy breathing.
“Aye, Comadre.  Help me.  I’m stuck.”
More shuffling. “There.  Let me get the zipper.”Breathing. “Maybe they have a bigger size.”
“No necesito a bigger size. This is my size.”
“Sí, pero nowadays they use less material and charge you more.  Let me go see if they have it in a bigger size.”
“No, no. I need to exercise.  Me dejé.”
“No, Comadre, pero como?  It’s the style of the dress.”
“Comadre, por favor, I can see for myself.  The mirrors don’t lie.”
“We’ll go to the gym.  I, too, have let myself go a little.”
“Aye, don’t yank on it.  I don’t want to have to buy it if it doesn’t fit.”
“You can keep it in the closet as incentive.”
“I am not going to the gym, not looking like this.  Come to my house every day, Comadre.  We’ll work out there.  When I look better, then we will go to the gym.”
Silence. 
“Let me go see if there’s a bigger size.  That dress looks so good on you, Comadre.”
Silence.
“Let’s go to Kohl’s.”
“Sí, vamos.  You get more dress for your money there.”
I heard muffled noises, hangers clinking, and heavy breathing, then there is silence in the  dressing room  next to mine.
I take a good look at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should get this dress in a bigger size.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.I sputter.I hyperventilate.I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties. I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several).

Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting. Me first: The facts:My mom f…

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt different t…

Grandma’s Dining Table

Twenty five years ago my first husband and I bought a new home with four bedrooms and three baths, but my favorite part of the house was the enormous room you walked into from the front door. It had no dividing wall but the design was to use half of it as a formal living and the other half as a formal dining. From the beginning I decided to make it into one huge dining room that would catch the eye when everyone walked in through the front door of my home.   My three children were very young, but I envisioned them grown and married. We counted five at the time, but one day we would grow to eight, maybe more if we factored in grandchildren, so I bought a table that sat a family of twelve.  My husband thought it silly to look that far ahead and convinced me to buy only ten chairs. The room looked magnificent – the long, majestic table, the ten chairs, the buffet, a couple of real ficus, and a few other nice pieces of furniture – I was pleased. The table lasted longer than the marriage, a…