Frock horror

Today I became trapped in a dress and had to be cut out. With scissors.

I was wandering through Target (that’s pronounced Tarjaaay, dahling) when I saw this dinky summer frock. It was blue and white floral with no sleeves, a knee-length A-line skirt and a tricky little tie belt. In short, it was just as cute as a button. "Hmm," I thought craftily. "That doesn’t look like a cheap frock." So off I flitted to the fitting room.

There was no problem getting the dress on. The zip went up nicely. Once on, however, it did look rather like a cheap frock because it gaped unattractively around the neckline. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I thought, trying to undo the zip. It jammed halfway. "Spiteful cheap frock!" I thought, yanking at the zip for a good minute before admitting that help was needed.

Mum was waiting outside, so I said, “Psst! Mum! I’m stuck!” She dragged at the zip for a while, but still no cigar. I tried to yank the dress over my head, but that wasn’t working either (boobs can be such a problem). Admitting defeat, I went to the fitting room lady and told her I had a zip problem. She came over and helpfully did it up for me.

“Nooo,” I whined. “It won’t go down. I’m trapped!” “In a Target frock!” I added in a silent wail. Not quite believing that anyone could be dumb enough to get stuck in a dress, she also dragged at the zip for a while. Ba-bow. She fetched another lassy who took her turn struggling with it. Meanwhile, I was wishing I’d shaved my underarms and was feeling like that jar of olives that everyone passes around at a party but no-one can open.

The two women went off to consult the manager about what to do with a customer stuck in a frock and one returned with a pair of scissors to “unpick” the zip. Predictably, this didn’t work, since scissors tend to be more suited to cutting. There was yet more consultation. Finally the first woman returned and said, “We’re just going to have to cut you out.” So she did.

Now let’s never speak of this regrettable incident again.