Inventions

Those of you who know me know that I am very much not a petite. I don't think women who are 5'11' could put on a petite-anything without busting a few of the teensy-weensy seams, let alone me, with my never-need-shoulder-pads shoulders. Heck, I'm tallish for a man. I actually have a weird heart condition that supposedly stunts your growth, so all the people at my pediatric cardiologist's office would make jokes about how tall I would have been had I not been blessed with a ventricular septal defect. (someone once mentioned Andre the Giant, and then I would have to be a wrestler but then have a small but charming role in a classic children's film) So summing up, the point of this paragraph is to establish that I am not a petite, and I know it, because I have been tall for my age for all of my ages.

Yesterday, when I was driving around Connecticut (why, you ask? why the heck not?), I found a stand-alone Lord and Taylor* and went in to do some minor shopping. I enter the store and browse for about 5 minutes before I realize that I am smack dab in the middle of petites. And Not only that, there are only petites and men's clothing on this floor. Given that fact, I can't pretend I was looking somewhere else for regular-sized clothing, huh-uh, now I'm the delusional giantess who will try to put on the brown polka dot dress and when it jambs awkwardly about my torso, blunder outof my dressing room, stiff arms waving, yelling "Noooo! Me no likely little dress! Me scare tiny women and knock mannequin down! Arrrhh!"

I have issues. That doesn't mean you can't laugh at them.

My mum and I share this gripe (she is smaller than me, but still not petite), and always feel awkward when we accidently stumble into the petite section. Over the years, we have tried to come up with solutions to the petite-section problem. I shall present to you the several that I find most compelling, hoping that some department store manager somewhere will one day realize this and make my life a slightly happier one.

1. Method of the Future! In the future, we will all have some sort of chip implanted into us (I just know it, and it will be like a bank-card or something and make purse/wallet carrying a thing of the pass). On this chip, we shall be able to pick our department store designator, like "Petite only/ Sometimes Petite, Sometimes Regular/ Petite? [Snort!]" So when a "Petite? [Snort!]" person accidently wanders over the line into the petite section, a little voice will say "yo! petites!" and that person, who is not delusional about her size, will curve swiftly back to the regular sizes.
   
2. Big Burly Petite-Section Guards Method: 'Nuff Said.
   
3. Color-Coding/Other Marker Method: For those of you who want a solution that a) doesn't involve cutting you open and b) doesn't involve the hiring of new employees or weightlifting, I present another method. Instead of subtly and smally printing "Petite" on one wall that may or may not be connected to the petite section, maybe all petite section carpets could be light blue instead of industrial taupe. Or maybe everything could be about a foot shorter. I would notice that foot, and I doubt the petite women would mind. Maybe even put a subtle velvet rope around the section, so the petite women could feel special as they unhook the end and travel in towards the clothing specially made for them.

This all said, I'd like to offer my condolences to the people of Connecticut for their ludicrously high gas prices. The lowest price I saw once I crossed the border was $2.76! $2.76! You can get a gallon of Starbucks coffee for $2.76! If you're willing to pay premium price, I bet those starbucks ppl will put in that extra-shot thingy!

Ok, now I gotta get back to work. Ahh, the sweet sounds of lawyers being falsely outraged.



*stand alone department stores fascinate me. If one day I am very very rich (or the black plague comes around again for another large swath of humanity and leaves me be), I will perhaps buy one to live in. One with very large windows on at least one floor.