no way, old man.

Last weekend I went prom dress shopping with my mom. We went everywhere, including this little dinky brial shop called Princess Brides by Ala Moana.

So my mom and I walk in and the first thing I notice is the odd dog barking from under the dress racks. Who in their right mind would let a dog loose in a store full of expensive dresses? Anyway, as my mom and I were browsing the racks of what looked like figure skating attire rather than prom dresses, an older man, I'd say at least 64, turned the corner to stand right in front of me. I said "excuse me" so I could continue looking for a decent dress, but he didn't move. So I looked up at his unshaven, shaky like Parkinson's face. He held up a dress too ugly to even be called a dress. It was the color of algae growing on the side of my hairdresser's fish tank with a layer of stiff black fishnet over it. It was bad. He firmly said, "Try it on" and I politely refused. However, he shoved it in my face and insisted I try it on. I kept saying no and he kept demanding. I got so fed up I took it in the dressing room, sat on the stool for 5 minutes, and came out to tell him it sucked. But when I came out, he yelled at me. "Why didn't you show me what it looked like on you, huh? WHY?" Geez mister, calm down. I was really irritated by then. I said to him that the dress was REALLY UGLY AND I DON'T LIKE IT. Of course this made him mad. So he pulled out another dress that was actually worse than the first one. He had outdone himself - he found an even uglier dress. This time the dress looked like a jail uniform, with thick vertical black and white stripes and it flared out only to one side. SO BAD. SO SO SO SO BAD. NO WAY, OLD MAN. He stood there, blocking the door, with the dress in his hand. "You don't know good taste," he scolded me. "I've been in this business for 500 years (it wasn't really 500 years, but it might as well have been) and I know what I'm talking about. You don't." I was pissed. Pissed-er than pissed. "IT'S UGLY" was all I could say. Not being able to get out of the store and wanting to kick the man so badly, I didn't know what to do. So what did I do? I cried. But nooooooo, mister old man still wouldn't let us out. I was seriously "all up in his face." But after another good 10 minutes of sobbing and yelling and hideous dresses, I managed to get out of there. Princess Brides: BEWARE.