(I hope that everything goes all right, and come back the next day. Tailor: “Yes, Fri-desday.” *or something else resembling a Dutch mix of Wednesday and Friday* Tailor: *points at Friday on the appointment note* “Wednesday.” So… almost a week? That can’t be right, can it?” Tailor: *slides appointment note at me, still only with the costs scribbled there* When she’s done, she gives me another stare, which tells me I can go change into my own pants again. (I do so, and once I emerge from the dressing room she almost jumps on me, taking the measurements and marking where she needs to trim. Me: “Okay, so, I go to the dressing room now, so can put it on and you can measure how much you need to trim, all right?” Tailor: *blank stare, then silently nods* Me: “I assume you need to know how much you have to trim off, right?” (Cue another round of blank stares, while I’m hoping she picks up a professional demeanour somewhere.) (She takes out an appointment note and writes a figure on it, before handing it to me. Me: “I’m sorry, could you say that again? Didn’t quite catch that.” Can you tell me what it is going to cost?” Me: “So, yeah, uh, just a few centimetres off the bottom, I guess. Me: “Hi! I’ve got these pants I need shortened. I therefore assume she knows enough Dutch to at least communicate well with customers.) The lady at the counter is clearly foreign, but I’ve been to this shop a year or so before and have seen her there, so I know she’s been in the country for a while already. (I bring a pair of pants to the tailor to get the legs shortened. The dress fit fine and I had an amazing time at the wedding. I don’t know if she was trying to help, but it didn’t work. You will gain too much weight and not fit in the dress for your mom’s special day.” My mom handles payment, and as we are leaving, the tailor looks at me. I am heavy but I don’t need this stranger talking to me like this. Eat rice and banana only and the dress will be good.” You gain too much weight and the dress won’t fit. Tailor: “You need to eat rice and banana. I am shocked by this because it seems like she is bringing the dress in more. She makes a few marks for where to adjust the dress but it doesn’t seem like a lot of work. About two weeks before the wedding, my mom and I go to a tailor for the final fitting. My mom is getting married to my step-dad and I’m in the wedding.
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