Just thought I should share that I HAD A FULL BLOWN PANIC ATTACK in Lululemon today. I was walking by and immediately enticed by their store front window, as well as a recommendation I am sure I got from tumblr about the run for your money tank.
As always I became distracted and grabbed a few of the regular racerbacks I wear and a new pair of wonder unders I saw. So when the Lulu girl stopped by to ask how I was doing I remembered - oh! That tank I wanted to try. So I asked her to grab me one of the run for your money tanks.
She came back a moment later, passed the tank over, and I was very excited. It looked ideal in that it had a built in sports bra, was roomy so you could move around, super cute colors.. basically all systems go. I proceeded (with some mild effort) to get it on and over my head, only to discover that it was tight. Like, really tight. So in the process of realizing a grave mistake has been made (probably on both the sales girl and my part) I quickly tried to remove myself from the fabric once described as “luon” that is now more of a vice grip around my entire body. The tank was no longer the run for your money tank in my head, it was now the free yourself and hope for your life tank.
To add to my troubles, this lululemons A/C is tragic at best. Any time you walk back to try things on, you are taking a gamble. Especially if it is over 70 degrees, summer, and there is humidity.
What occurred in that moment I can only tell you from off and on recollections as I am pretty sure I blacked out several times while clawing at my skin, trying to grasp the material, trying to not tear said material, trying to breathe, and trying to put together the words to ask another grown woman (that I don’t know other than her handing me the hateful tank that has now prompted me to reevaluate whether I could move into said dressing room that I am trapped in) if she could help me remove myself from the tank.
After clawing at my skin some more, doing circles, jumping up and down, banging against what I am sure was every door and mirror in the dressing room, and hearing a few sales girls and other customers uttering “is she ok?” (no, I am not, thank you for thinking of me). I managed to pry one arm out, and then the other (not before the tag popped off said tank - awesome).
Once I removed myself from what was essentially designed to be a death trap, I saw that it said size 2 on it (love the sales girl for believing in me). In the moment when the sales girls were asking if I was ok, one of the other customers mentioned that certain items seemed to fit small, and the sales girl responded with “oh yes, well that is because they are Canadian sizes.” Really Canada? What have you been dressing? Shrinkie dinks?