On Sunday, I went to the mall to start my search for something appropriate to wear to my brother's wedding. As you can tell from the fact that this is the second post I have written about it, getting dressed for this wedding is becoming very stressful. This is because it's an evening wedding with a reception at a place where my college once held a formal dance. Since most of the weddings I have attended have been of the "wear church clothes" variety, this has created a bit of a wardrobe crisis in the Wachdorf household. Getting Dan up to speed in the suit department was bad, but, as you know if you know me well, I really hate to shop. If I don't find what I am looking for in half an hour, I am very likely to give up. It must be a genetic mutation, because my mom and my sisters could shop until the Kingdom comes and never get tired. So it is to my eternal credit that I kept going for six hours until I found exactly what I wanted.
But along the way, I had the following slightly scandalous, but really funny experience. I was trying on some clothes in The Limited, and while I was in the dressing room, I was listening to the lady in the dressing booth next to mine talking to her four year old son, in a language that sounded like Japanese. Apparently, he was requiring a LOT of instructing, because she was talking to him at a high rate of speed and volume. Then, all the sudden, the talking stopped. I thought "Well, at least it's quiet in here. Now I can focus on trying to figure out how this strappy top is supposed to fit. I think I'm wearing it backwards." So I turned away from the mirror to try to wriggle my way out of the thing. As soon as I got it over my head, I looked down towards the floor and saw that the reason it was very quiet was that the child was lying UNDER MY DRESSING ROOM DOOR, looking at me! I don't want to get too graphic here, but I was in a definite state of undress, and this child was just lying there, staring at me like this was completely normal. So I started trying to tell him to go away, but I couldn't tell if he spoke any English, because saying "Excuse me!" and looking very indignant was having no effect on him. So finally I started making these shoo-ing motions with my hands, and he kind of rolled back out into the dressing room and never came back.
I now think this is hilarious, but at the time, I just kind of got dressed and left. Now I am a big advocate of dressing room doors without spaces at the bottom!