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What REALLY happened

OK, truth be told, I roamed from one side of Manhattan to the other, looking for a simple skirt and top ensemble to wear to my cousin’s wedding.

I walked for hours from Ann Taylor to Bloomingdales to Lord and Taylor’s to Ann Taylor Loft to Banana Republic to (in desperation) The Gap, and then it was 7pm and they were kicking me out.

And nothing fit. Not in “Petites.” Not in “Misses.” Not in “Girls,” and certainly not in “Women’s Sportswear.” My torso is too stumpy, my waist too large, my hips too small, and my legs both too thick and too short for such graciously cut garments. Obviously, I am a freak of nature and not fit to live, unless as part of some comic sideshow. For God’s sake, no wonder I’m single.

I briefly considered throwing myself out the convenient 11th story window, but my feet hurt too much for me to drag myself off the couch.

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