Sizing things up...

I don’t know what a tracker mortgage is – but I do know what size tee-shirt I wear!

Until recently I thought that most people over the age of say, 14, would also have a fair idea of such clothing trivia, but in recent weeks I finally realised that this is not the case.

At the risk of making a broad sweeping statement, I will now make a broad sweeping statement – I have decided that most women don’t have a clue what size they are.

Umm, or maybe that should be – they don’t want to admit it.

This piece of divine inspiration finally dawned on me last weekend when I saw a nervous-looking guy standing and trying to look inconspicuous outside a store fitting room.

For the record – if I were ever to run for an election – banning these changing rooms would form part of my manifesto, and I’m pretty certain that that would pick me up a few hundred votes from men.

Because here’s the thing folks – men hate these changing rooms.

No sorry, hate is not the right word – detest, loathe, despise – something stronger than just hate.

There are a number of reasons for this – not least is the fact that women who do go into them seem to take an inordinate amount of time trying things on.

I can almost hear female readers of this blog now crying – but men use these changing rooms too – but here’s the thing, except for the rarest of occasions - they never really want to!

Nope, for the most part I’d say men who use these changing rooms are cajoled into using them by a wife or girlfriend who urges them to ‘go try it on to we see what it looks like.’

A man’s brain does not work like that.

A man can see quite well what it looks like when it is hanging on the rack – and providing it’s the right size and the right price – and he actually wants it - he might buy it.

In contrast a female shopper has a much different approach and as a result will often traipse to a fitting room with an armful of stuff, leaving the unsuspecting husband or boyfriend to stand outside shuffling their feet and trying to stare at the ceiling or floor.

Last weekend’s guy was one such unfortunate, and vaguely knowing him from football and recognising the symptoms of the agony he was going through, I decided I’d be the good Samaritan and talk to him for a moment or two.

While standing there I also noticed that a few of the females who were going into the fitting rooms had a number of the same item, in what I can only assume were different sizes.

Now the fact that so many females use these fitting rooms is evidence enough in my court to suggest that most women don’t have a clue what size they are – but bringing several items the same in at the same time, just adds to it.

Over the course of the week this had me perplexed until I finally came to the conclusion that the blouses were as follows – the size she hoped she was, the size she thought she was and finally the size she feared she might actually be.

As it turns out, it was the guy I was talking to that pointed out the woman heading into the changing room with three identical blouses, and as he shook his head in disbelief he explained that he’d been standing outside the changing room for almost ten minutes.

This of course in man shopping time can feel like anything up to half a day and I really could not help feeling sorry for him.

Especially when I saw him still standing there ten minutes later when I was going in to try on a pair of jeans…