Size 14

Monday I went shopping for a bridesmaids dress. We tried on I think every dress in the store with only one to our liking. Although it was to our liking we didn't buy it because we wanted to wait for another to come in first. The whole time we are in there I am struggling to get even one dress zipped all the way. It's miserable feeling like a fat cow in a gorgeous dress. Looking at the sizes make you want to rip out your hair, stomp your feet like a five year old and pee all over the dress. We left hopeful that this other dress would come in and make us all look Angelina Jolie Glamorous. The very next day one of the dresses comes in . . . in a size 10. I go to try it on and I am jumping out of my panties, because not only is it a size smaller than all the other dresses I tried on, it actually fits with a little room!!! It looked great and I felt great. No peeing on this dress. I asked the woman assisting me if I should go to a size 8. She looked at me with an "I don't think so look" and then tugged on the dress with a "Well, I'm surprised, you aren't as fat as you look" look and tells me she thinks I could go down a half size, but not a whole one because I wouldn't be able to breath. Um shut up. Who cares about breathing anyway? I put my name and size down just in case this is the one and I wait.
Yesterday. Oooohhhhhh, yesterday! The girl who assisted me calls me to leave me a message. I am excited thinking that all the girls have tried on the dress and are ready to make their purchase. I listen to my message . . . OH HELL NO!!! You have to be kidding. She calls me only to tell me that no one ever really looked at the tag and it was actually a size 14! Well, maybe if I punt her butt out the door I could lose the extra two inches. I about started crying. Looks like my fat butt will be eating salad and ex-lax for 4 months. Right after I have pizza tomorrow that is.