In order to stick to my resolution number 652 (the one about dressing smartly at work), I decided to check out the sales at Zara in order order to stock up on some basics like t-shirts and shirts. The quality is poor but for basic items that will last a season Zara fits the bill (listen to me, I sound like an advice column from Cosmo mag).
The thing with Zara is that the fitting rooms have been designed by psychopaths with the ultimate aim of distorting your sense of bearing and potentially even your identity. The lighting is super bright, it's the "oooooh I had no idea I had a pimple there" kind. So at first you feel rubbish. But then, things get better. For one, because the clever psychopaths have designed the clothes sizes to be one size too big. So if usually you are a size 40, the size 40 items will be too large for you. So you will then try the size 38 (which is in fact a size 40 in the real world). Even if you know about the manipulation that is going on, you feel smug and happy because you are wearing an item with a smaller size number written on it.
And to top it all up, the mirrors are slimming. I realised this as I was standing in the fitting room in my underwear, and I even paused in my clothes fitting to turn in all angles, front, back, side, happy face, sad face, sexy pause, shy pause and finally model catwalk walk on the same spot.
Anyhow, a few moments, or maybe minutes, or maybe possibly hours later, I emerged with some cheap badly cut t-shirts but feeling like a skinny sex goddess.
Under this illusion, the next thing I did was to go to the sweet shop and buy myself sweets with enough calories to feed an entire medium sized village. Hence I bet if I go back to those miraculous fitting rooms at Zara tomorrow even they will not be able to work their magic to hide the fact the Ass will have doubled in size.