Giving Large

You can usually tell the difference between someone shopping for her own daughter and someone shopping for her son's wife. The slight hint of a sneer often gives it away.

Some aren't quite that subtle. The sweet looking little old lady who came into the store yesterday seemed innocuous enough at first as she agonized over the size and color of a sweatshirt. "She usually wears a large, but this extra large doesn't even look big enough for her," she said. "Do these run small?" I told her they did not, even though I had never tried one on. But the garment she laid out on the table in front of me looked like it could fit a family of four. It wasn't made out of drapes. It was the drapes.

"If your friend usually wears a large, I'd just go with a large. Better to err on the smaller side," I suggested. My instincts are pretty keen on matters such as these. I would be downright suicidal if somebody gave me this item and explained that it was not a window treatment.

"It's for my daughter-in-law," the sweet little old lady clarified. "She wears her clothes much too tight." Ahhh.

I wasn't about to get in the middle of this one. But the sweet little old lady was just getting started. "Why is it that fat people love to wear clothing that's too tight and shows all their rolls?" she asked. Where's the sales manual when you need it? We're supposed to offer up socks and headbands in addition to any purchase. I was thinking maybe I should just suggest socks and headbands instead of this purchase. There was certainly no way I was going to suggest adding pants, even though we're having a contest to see who can sell the most.

The woman was relentless. "And why do they insist on wearing bright neon colors?" They? The fat people? "You'd think they'd want to hide their bodies, not flaunt them." I can't speak for the daughter-in-law, but I definitely wanted to hide from this woman, certainly wouldn't feel comfortable stuffing myself with some Christmas goose at her holiday table. I hope the ill-fated bride has a healthy stash of chocolate waiting for her in her nightstand -- that is, as long as the indigestion isn't too debilitating.

The mother-in-law from hell left empty handed, hopelessly conflicted about sizes. I guess it's not always such a good thing when somebody puts a lot of thought into a gift. If she returns, I'm going to suggest a gift card. It's small, and it's bright orange. The daughter-in-law will love it.