A Bloody good time

I can’t even do something as mundane as dress shopping without some drama happening to me.

I am a shopping dynamo. You don’t call upon my powers if you need an outfit, or a stylist or a new wardrobe. My strength comes in handy when you have a very specific item in mind and you need an honest opinion and you need to find it that day.

My old roommate Tal, needed a cute black dress for a Bat Mitzvah she is going to in Israel.

“ I don’t need anything too dressy, just something cute that makes me look polished.”

With it being mid-August in NYC, and ‘tis the time of year for the end of season sales, we aim high and hit Saks.

And there we learn the very important lesson that although it is 40% off of selected items, when it is 40% off of $960, the item is still fucking expensive.

“You know,” says Tal, “why don’t we try Lord and Taylor.”

Five floors, two trips to the bathroom, and $103 later and I have two new hot lacy bras, and cute semi-matching panties. Tal still has no dress.

“You know, there is this cute dress at Urban Outfitters that I want you to check out. If I can’t find anything else, I think it’s a great back up.”

However, dresses at Urban Outfitters can’t even make Jackie-O look polished.

We end up at Express. And holding true to our lives, of course it is the dark horse that comes to our rescue. Inside we find the cute quintessential black dress. She takes it and goes into the fitting room. I try on the same dress because it is one of those dresses that every woman should own. Simple, black, and showing off a woman’s curves.

We share the same fitting room because, having lived together for a year, we have seen each other naked.

“ Tal, could you help me zip up the dress?”

She has no problem zipping it until she gets to my boobs.

“Shannon, I can’t zip it anymore”

“It’s fucking boobs! Fat tissue is malleable! Zip it, I’ll just stuff my boobs in.”

It still won’t zip up. I end up having to zip the dress, leaving it at the small of my back and then pulling it up and stuffing my boobs into it.
“Tal, I can’t breathe! Unzip me!”

As she unzips me, I hear my phone vibrate. Being a cell phone whore, I rush to see who it could be.

I step out of my dress, and topless, I sift through my bag, trying to find my cell phone. As I aimlessly shove my hand into my bag’s bottom, I feel a sharp pain in my finger, a slicing sensation. Pulling out my hand, I see blood all over my index finger.

Fuck, the safety of one of the razors sitting at the bottom of my gym bag must have come off.

Within seconds my finger is covered in blood. There is a gash in my finger. I freak out.

“Tal!” I shove my finger up into her face.

“Oh my God! What happened!!”

“I cut it on a razor.”

I am shaking, there is so much blood. In an effort to make sure the blood doesn’t get all over the fitting room, I shove my finger into my mouth and throw on my shirt.

“I think I might need to go to the hospital” My hypochondria is kicking in.

Tal is wearing a bra and underwear and I walk out of the fitting room, leaving the door wide open. Not realizing what I am doing, just operating on auto-pilot, needing to find a bathroom to see how bad the cut is.

When I see the fitting room attendant I take my finger out of my mouth, and blood seeps out of the corners of my lips.

“I need baffroom.”

“Oh my god! Are you ok!?” She gasps. “How did you cut your mouth?”

I take my finger out of my mouth, “It’s my finger, I need a bathroom. I just sliced it on a razor.”

Tal is getting dressed as I am looking for a bathroom.

“I think I might need to go to the hospital.” I tell the girl.

However, washing out the cut, I see that it is just a bad slice. I wrap it in paper towels, and hold my finger above my head, trying to stop the bleeding.

I head back downstairs and I see Tal.

“How bad is it?” she asks, Jewish mommy is kicking in.

“I think I’ll be ok.”

And the manager is at the cash register.

He turns away, “Are you ok?” he asks.

“I should be ok. I cut myself on some razors in my bag.”

“Oh my God, I can’t hear it. I’m sorry, I am afraid of blood!” He turns white, beads of sweat appear on his face. He looks like he is about to pass out.

My finger wont stop bleeding.

“Tal, I think I might need to see a doctor. I might need stitches.”

I walk outside, trying to get some air, so I can think.

Tal walks behind me, carrying the dress.

“Oh shit, I almost took this. I can put this on hold,” she said.

“No Tal, pay for it. The dress looks great on you. I think it is just my hypochondria kicking in.”

So the manager rings her up, with his head facing the floor, asking me to stand out of his line of sight.


In hindsight, that is a fucking awesome diversion to shop lift shit. Have someone cut themselves. Blood scares everyone.