Last week I decided that it was time to get a new dress and a pair of shoes. My current best shoes were a pair of old runners. I had been asked to hostess an English contest in the theatre, and decided I really needed something nice to wear, a bit like Cinderella. I had spent the winter in so many layers, and have lost a lot of weight, so my clothes look a bit like they were made for two of me.
I have shopped for the children throughout the winter, and even bought a coat for Tim and myself, but I have never shopped for anything else for me. I decided that I needed moral support and the Chinese language for this one, so I took a young college student, Joy, with me. Joy is about 5 feet tall and weighs 43 kilos (95 pounds)! A slim me weighs 61 kilos. I think we looked a little like David and Goliath.
The Chinese may be behind other countries in some ways, but clothing is not one of them. There are many privately owned shops, 10 feet square, up and down Xiangtan. The clothes are very stylish, and usually formfitting. They are not, however in my size, though I really don't even know what is my size anymore. Usually when we saw something that we liked, not frilly, simple but elegant, it would be made for Joy's type figure, petite and shapely.
To narrow down the selection we simply had to ask for something in my size. "Meiyou." We don't have anything. Oh well, on to the next shop. We did actually find three dresses that came close to fitting me. On one the zipper couldn't close; the next one was an XL. Yes, I think it will fit. Step into the fitting room please. Where? Right here. A small door, I had to duck to enter it, opened, onto which was attached a piece of curtain material. The other side contained a very small closet- sized room, 18 inches by 5 feet. There was space to remove your clothes if you stood the right way, and a small chair to place them on. The rest of the room was taken up with various assortments of stuff, literally. The dress slid on, the zipper zipped, and I look like I had been poured into a pink sheath. Every bump, bulge, pooch etc. could be clearly seen. The sleeves also came halfway to my wrists. I burst out laughing. Joy forced me out for a look. The saleswoman managed to keep a straight face, a credit to her professionalism! The dress is a very nice color for you, I will be sending in an order tomorrow, and could have them send an XXL. Would you like me to do that? It will only cost 180 yuan. Thank you but I think we will keep looking.
Across the street we found a floral patterned dress, in small black and red flowers, which buttoned down the front. Did this happen to be in my size? Maybe, it is our largest size, 42 (definitely not the same measuring system as America). Please try it on. This dressing room actually had a small sink across the narrow end of it, and a rod above your head to hang things. Otherwise it was the same space and comfort level. A sheet of paper was given to me to stand on and I dutifully tried on the dress. The sleeves fit, so there was a chance. The buttons did up, just. Across my front they were stretched snug. Joy asked to see it. There was animated discussion with the shopkeeper, another older customer who was also trying on a blouse, Joy, and the general group that always gathers around when I do anything. From the sweeping hand gestures, cupped and upwards, and the long stares at my bosom, and laughter all around, I did not need a translation. Something had to be done about the bust. I was sent in to tighten my brassiere and see if that would make a difference. The buttons were definitely less snug. There is the solution. The dress is not the problem, the brassiere is. You need a better one that will support you properly. By this time I think I must have been the same color as the flowers on the dress I was wearing, but I could see the wisdom in their comments. More discussion and laughter followed while I was changing. When I came out, Joy informed me that I could buy the dress for 100 yuan. It was definitely reasonable. I agreed. I would also get a new bra, and make extra sure the buttons were well sewn on to be safe. Two hours had elapsed; we had walked many blocks, and the last bus, at 6:30 pm would be leaving in less than 30 minutes to the college. It was time to go back. The brassiere and shoes would have to wait until tomorrow.
Thursday found Joy and I once again on our way to Xiangtan. This time our goal was shoes and the brassiere. In shoes I now wear 39, if it is a man's shoe; women's don't come large enough. We soon found, though, that even finding a decent looking man's shoe that fit wouldn't be easy. At least with men's shoes I didn't have to worry about shoes that had high heels or, even more popular, platform heels, typically between two and four inches high. Though my feet are long they are thin, and we soon ran into the problem that shoes that were long enough were too wide; narrow enough they were too short. We finally found a pair that would work with an insole at one store. As I was trying them out by walking around Joy informed me that at times she would like to be a foreigner -- I got to walk around in my shoes before I bought them. She had to remain standing on the little square of material they put down on the floor when you sat down. Apparently you were not supposed to leave the square, but they didn't want to offend me, so they said nothing as I wandered around the store.
Of finding a brassiere I will comment briefly. Most Chinese figures wear very padded, size 32-B, brassieres. Needless to say, my western, matronly figure provoked much comment and some challenge. Joy made the comment that they were afraid of offending me, because with her they felt no qualms about pushing, poking, and stuffing the customer into the correct shape. A few minutes later, I knew what she meant. It felt similar to being treated like play dough. Half an hour later the purchase was complete, 80 yuan. You paid dearly for the privilege of getting to actually try on the brassiere before you bought it!
I must admit though that the transformation was satisfactory. During the weekend Tim received a special award, the Lotus Award, for special effort in teaching. We spent the afternoon in Changsha with 200 other people listening to speeches, one by the vice governor of Hunan Province, watching the usual interesting mix of performances. The high point was a young man of high-school age, who played a native Chinese flute incredibly well; the one that received the most laughs was an overweight foreigner with a young slim Chinese girl performing a traditional Chinese play about the girl and the woodcutter. Tim, along with 28 other teachers from various fields, was awarded a nice black plastic plate with the award's name on it, some flowers, and a silk needlepoint wall hanging of several pandas. Tariqa wanted to play Frisbee with the plate as soon as we went outside. We all laughed, but discouraged her. I didn't think the officials would take kindly to such use of their memento. Moments later two young foreign teachers shouted to us, "Hey, a Frisbee." I guess we all get a little crazy sometimes. We were then treated to a very nice banquet and smooth ride home to end the evening.
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