Sum, Sum, Sum, Sum, Summertime…

It’s hot here now. I don’t know what happened to that thing called spring, but it’s gone. Just a month ago, I was hiking in a snow storm. Now, it’s hot. I leave my windows open at night, braving the mosquitoes, to encourage cool air to circulate through my warm apartment. The weather presents another problem. I only brought winter clothes. And a bathing suit. But I can’t wear that all the time.

So tonight I went to DongA, that department store that has everything. Nine floors of consumer goods, three dedicated to women’s clothing. I knew I would pay a little more, but I wanted the convenience of price tags and sizes. Or so I thought. All I wanted was a short sleeve top. That’s all. I wandered from department to department, looking at the fashions. Hmmm… not really my style. But it’s hot outside. So I approached the expedition with an open mind, my chance to discover a “new” look I otherwise might not try.

This was my experience tonight. Each floor is divided into about 20 or 30 different sections, based on the brand name of the clothing sold. I would walk into a section, start flipping through the racks of tops, the sales woman would walk up to me. “Annyong ha-sayo…” I would offer. She would return my greeting. Then look me up and down, cluck her tongue, shake her head and say, “no size-a” and motion for me to leave. After the, oh, fifth time this happened, I was almost in tears. I don’t want to wear wool throughout the summer. Then there’s the whole body image thing. I’m not fat. I’m tall. I’m athletic. I’m also curvy. Think Brandy Chastain meets Marilyn Monroe. Yet compared to the women here, I feel like an Amazon. And to have women tell me to leave their section of the store, well, it’s not a good feeling.

I was getting ready to leave the store, empty handed and dejected, when I stopped to look at one last rack of tops. The saleswoman came over and offered a cheery “Annyong ha-sayo.” I returned the greeting and smiled at her. She gave me the once over. No, not again. Please. She didn’t say anything, but left, and moments later came back with an armful of short sleeve sweaters, some medium, some large. I could have kissed her. I don’t know the word for “dressing room” but I pantomimed trying the clothes on. She looked around, then motioned me to a closet. Yes, a closet. I don’t know. Maybe they don’t have dressing rooms here. Hell, why do they need them – everyone wears a small. I tried on all she offered to me. Fortunately, two fit. She seemed so happy. She tried to get me to buy each of the two styles in the rainbow of colors they were offered. I didn’t like them *that* much, but I did appreciate her effort. I left the store with two short sleeve tops. It’s amazing how the littlest things can feel like the biggest accomplishments.