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This was going to be in my blogger, but it got long, so I moved it here. My Life in 12-Point Font - December 4, 2000 "I imagine they get a lot of calls like that -- a nervous woman with a small voice wondering timidly if they might possibly have some sort of evening wear for a size 16? The lady on the other end of the phone announced with a booming voice that of course they did! And I should come right over."
I want this shop in Seattle to give their saleswomen a raise, and I also want this shop in Seattle to make so much money they just can't believe their good fortune. I've found only a couple of shops like this, not populated by snooty twiglets declaring by mouth that they don't have anything in my size, and by attitude that my size might be best fit by a Marquee. My sister and best friend in Australia had to pull me out of a bridal shop populated by a particularly loathsome brand of this ilk. They had to pull me out because I was a gnats hair away from breaking this stupid womans nose. They only had dresses in 10 and under. They expected me to buy the dresses without trying them on, and then they'd make one for me in my (unstated but implied Elephantine) size. When I, with no small measure of incredulity, repeated this policy back to the blonde twiglet snot, she then proceeded to make the comment that very nearly gained her the profile of a boxer hack. "well, that's what you have to expect when you're that size." All my sister and friend had to hear was me saying "Right." in a clipped tone that signifies trouble to anyone with half a brain, and one grabbed one arm, the other grabbed the other, and we walked out of the shop. My sister still lives in Adelaide, and she got married last year. She still remembers that, from November 97, and whenever the topic comes up, she says "Don't go to suchandsuch bridal shop".
The shop we ended up getting my wedding dress from, they stayed past their closing time, they brought out three or four dresses that fitted both my sister and I beautifully, and not one weight/size crack or snifter of attitude was heard. I still recommend that shop, and that chain, I tell everyone I know, and I wrote to the chain and told them so. Scorn the larger woman at your peril, clothing shops, we're dangerous to get annoyed. (I'm an Australian size 16, a USA size 18, just so you have a point of reference.)
I worked until 4AM this morning on a client website, changing, moving, uploading, checking, rechecking, tweaking. I try not to do that too often, it tends to kill the next day. I usually sleep til noon, or past noon if I've been up til that late, and then feel sleepy and useless for the rest of that day. This morning, I got three phone calls in quick succession, 10:15, 10:25 and 10:30, by which time, despite my lovely answering machine, I was thoroughly awake. Despite having only 6 hours of sleep, I feel surprisingly perky and my brain is not sleep sluggish.
We took this
site over a couple of years ago, and are in the final stages of
reworking it in our image. It's a large site, just under 20MB's
and the redesign is taking a while, but when it's done, it'll be
be lovely to use, at least from my perspective. Things in their
proper directory, comprehensive notes about what goes where, everything
interlinked and moving together in unison. I'm completely analretentive
about having a tidy website, although you couldn't pick I'd be that
way if you looked at the rest of my house. Paper drifts like snow,
and organisation, loose organisation, using the Piles system. Did
you know the common household cat is the natural enemy of the Piles
system? My beasts take a perverse pleasure in going skidding across
the floor, tumbling and biting whatever pile of documents I've just
stacked. I need a professional organiser, and a secretary, but ones
that will work for nothing. Sigh.
Updated 6 December, 2000 |
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