Sounds awesome, right? Sorta.

My fridge contains what I have to look forward to when I get home from work. It also contains what I have to succumb to eating upon return to my apartment.  Those two things are wine and broccoli and the events of my lunch hour are the cause of this.

Today, over my lunch hour and in the Zara change room, I realized one thing.  I don’t think even Gisèle Bundchen feels like she looks good in the Zara change room.  Or in any change room.   Honestly, the only retailer who has their act together when it comes to the change room is Victoria’s Secret.  And that says it all.

A change room is like a chokey for women.  Remember the chokey from the movie Matilda?  It’s a closet-sized punishment space with nails and stakes poking outwards in every direction, making it extremely likely for anyone inside to have a full fledged claustro-panic attack.  Well, in change rooms, there are mirrors instead of spikes and, instead of the crushing blackness, there are baseball stadium-strength light bulbs illuminating everything. This is the modern female change room, ladies.  I don’t know about you but when I’m at home I don’t try something on in my closet and then stand 6 inches from a mirror to determine if it looks good.


As Gretchen Wieners suggests, you don’t buy something without asking your friends if it looks good on you first.  So I proceeded to attempt to document about nine outfit changes and send them over whatsapp to my sister in Toronto and good friend in England.  This highly choreographed process backfired when no one responded.

Frustrated, illuminated and alone, I decided to buy a few items that, thankfully, Zara allows full refund on if they don’t meet my standards.

And, despite some vigorous healthy habits and gym visits over the past 3 weeks, I still feel like no progress has been made on the ‘132-only’ front.  So, tonight, I will go home to my delightful apartment and avoid snacking on useless and temporarily pleasing items and opt instead for a Zara-change-room-friendly dinner.  But I won’t forgo the wine.  It’s a post-Zara-change-room thing.

Image 1 courtesy of fanpop. Image 2 courtesy of Style and then some.

One response to “Why I’m Going Home to Eat Broccoli and Drink Wine”

  1. An Ode to a First Apartment – ademoiselle Avatar

    […] interviews, all-day work events, Sunday night family BBQs, failed shopping attempts articulated by god-awful changing room mirrors, dentist checkups, wind chills of -30, long vacations, and forest […]

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