Crying in the Dressing Room
It’s 2014. I’m still in denial about my weight gain.
It’s my friend Rob’s wedding, and he buys all the groomsmen suits from Macy's. The only thing I have to do is go to Macy’s to get measured and pick it up once it’s tailored.
I walk into the Macy’s near my house and talk to the tailor. The tailor asks, what size are you?” I reply, “44 short.”
The tailor side-eyed me and says “Are you sure?”
I’m thinking to myself, “Yea dude! I’m sure of my suit size" but politely respond, "Yes.”
He hands me a suit off the rack and says, “Try this on!” I walked into the dressing room, try the jacket and pants on, and I come out all cocky and say, “How does it look?”
The tailor says, “Looks great! A few adjustments, and you’ll be set.”
He pinned the pants and jacket, and I returned to the dressing room to take off the suit.
Then, I notice the tag.
48 short. That motherfucker.