Sales: 3D experience(English version)

Hi everyone and welcome back! Today I’m going to tell you the story of why I hate going shopping in sale season, and when I say going, I mean the verb to go in its literal meaning, which according to Oxford dictionary is:
intr. Move from one place to another.

That’s what I mean, moving. Actually moving myself to go shopping. Everything started two days ago, when a young, inexperienced and naïve Pepa decided to go around the stores to check out some bargains. Silly me. Every year by this time I always tell myself “I won’t go shopping in sales ever again” and every year I go. It’s like my kryptonite.
So, there I was, with my music on and summoning all my patience, ‘cause I knew there’d be tons of people and I was going to suffer. I knew and I didn’t care. I went to one of my favorite stores to check if they had some pants I’d seen on the website and instantly loved. A Capri model, ankle-length with checked print in green and navy. Fabulous.
After crossing Gran Vía against the current –those who aren’t familiarized with this street must know it doesn’t matter the direction you take, the rest of the world, congregated there with the one purpose of filling the space, will always walk in the opposite direction- I got into the shop. Uff…too many people –I thought- but I defeated the laziness and went into the beast’s lair.
When I finally managed to make my way among hordes of women, men, children and elderly with arthritis who run like a hare when they see something with 50% off, I found them.  I looked at them; they looked at me and smiled. This part of the story may not be fully truthful, but I could assure they were shinning and giving off heat, while the wind -which seems to originate in them- whispered to me “try them on…try them on...” and I, as anyone who has seen Pocahontas and consequently knows the wind is usually right, decided to try them on.
After 90 minutes waiting in the fitting room’s queue, I finally got in. I was already fed up, and that tight cubicle in which there is only one hanger to hang the coat, scarf, beanie and pants didn’t help. Managing I don’t know how, I took the pants I was wearing off and try the others on, everything without taking my shoes off, because I’m lazy and what the hell, we all do it. 
It was done. Buttoned up and zipped, I looked at myself in the mirror…What  was that?! My legs, usually a little chubby but nothing out of the ordinary, looked panoramic, in 16:9, with Dolby surround, 4D and extended director’s cut. ¿What was happening there? For better understanding of the situation, an explicative picture below:
THAT was happening. I took the pants off and everything went back to its place, I tried them on again and suddenly I got wider than taller. Desperation. I took them off cursing everyone I’ve ever met. Fucking pants, fucking checked, fucking shoes that don’t let me take the pants off, fucking discomfort when I finally have to take the shoes off and try to keep balance with the fucking fingertip of the fucking thumb toe to avoid touching the fucking floor.
In my knickers, with literally my pants down, remembering why last year I decided not to go shopping in sales ever again and without been able to believe how much time I lost in the queue, I sat in the stool and huge tears of hopelessness became to emerge from my eyes.
A memory of my childhood crossed my mind in that moment. I was a kid and I got sick in the school, pooping myself, so I had to wait for my mum to come and save me. Could I do that? Could I call my mum and ask her to rescue me, hug me and tell me everything is going to be ok? Could I? Would she come?
Finally, with my last trace of dignity, I realized of my look, in knickers and crying because those fucking pants look like shit on me. I looked at myself in the mirror and told me: “you’re an adult woman, behave like it. Put your pants on and get out of here with your head held high. Take refuge at your home and next year…don’t go shopping in sale season!
And that is how, my friends, I, age 24 (incredible), cried naked in a fitting room and swore I’d never ever try to shop something I had to try on in sales season. I still allow myself to buy complements and shoes, though. For now…

Pepa. xx

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