That's Life: Sizing Up a Sin?
 |
But since I do possess the "I-want-to-look-nice gene," I cannot avoid replacing my out-of-date or worn-out clothes. It is a challenge, as I wear a size 2 blouse, a size 4 skirt and size 5 shoes.
Now, as I hunt for a new outfit to wear to a party being held to celebrate my grandson Nicholas' confirmation, I am reminded of my shopping experience when I wanted a new suit for Easter. I was not a widow then, and my dear Bill was here to help me.
As I trudged up and down the aisles of a store, I did not come across any suits in my size. There were none.
.gif)
Three stores later, I was exhausted and considered buying a size 6 suit and having it altered. But Bill cautioned me: "Remember what you paid a seamstress to alter the mother-of-the-bride gown you bought."I could have bought a month's groceries for my husband and myself with what that alteration had cost. But, of course, I did not think of the expense then as it was indeed a special occasion — a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me, as I have but one daughter.
My husband was a more enthusiastic and efficient shopper than me, thank goodness, and bought most of my clothes on his own. I was always pleased with what he selected, as he really knew what would appeal to me.
When we were shopping for my suit, Bill was the one who found a pretty lilac suit in both size 2 and 4. "Where did you get those?" I asked. "They were on a rack outside the fitting room," he said.
I tried on the size 4 and the jacket was too large. The jacket in size 2 was a perfect fit, but the skirt was tight around the waist. Stepping out of character, I switched the skirts, pairing the size 4 skirt with the size 2 jacket.
I was nervous as I stood in line to pay for the suit, imagining everyone's eyes were fixed on me. I might as well have been wearing a "C" for cheat on my chest, as Hester Prynne in the novel "The Scarlet Letter" had worn an "A," because the Puritans found her guilty of adultery.
I was spared the embarrassment of being caught committing an act of deception, as the clerk did not notice that the skirt and jacket were not the same size. And I rode home with the box containing my new suit in my lap.
Easter Sunday, however, I was too guilt-ridden to wear the suit to church, so I returned it to the store the next day.
Because my conscience continued to bother me, I decided to confess to a priest that I had been dishonest. When I told the priest the full story, he looked perplexed. "Don't all women do that kind of thing?" he said. He did not give me a penance, but that left me feeling that I still needed to be absolved of my sin. I hope, at least, a woman who is built like me is enjoying wearing the suit. That should count for something in my favor in St. Peter's record of the pluses and minuses that will determine if I am sent up or down when my journey on Earth is over.
