Don't ya wish ur boyfriend was fat like me

My mom visited over the weekend. She wants me to look nice for the formal nights on the cruise, so she took me suit shopping at K&G warehouse. I didn't want to go and fought her tooth and nail the whole way. I was sick and I hate trying on clothes. Anyway, I reluctantly agreed to go, if not just to make her happy. I was forced to try on one of the suits the sales guy pitched to us. He directed us to the tailor. Little did I know, I was in for a bout of public humiliation. This smug, unhappy little man apparently gets his jollies out of making other people feel like dirt. He's a pale, pasty, weasel of a man who speaks with a foreign tongue that I still cant figure out (Greek, Arabic, French?). I tell the guy that the pants that came with the jacket I had on were too big (size 48, I wear a 40). He proceeds to order me to put them on, even when I tell him they will be down around my ankles. He says snottily, "How am I supposed to know what they will look like if you refuse to put them on." I said, "Because I'm telling you right now they will be around my ankles in front of all of these people." At this point I'm fed up and tell my mom I'm ready to leave. She pleads with me to do what the man says. I go in and try them on, and they were a little tight. I find out they were a 38, not a 48. So I come out and stand in front of the mirror while Tim the Tool-man tailor looks me up and down. He grabs the front of my pants from behind me and jacks them up to my belly button. Then, he tells me to go get one size smaller of the same exact suit. We find the size smaller suit and I go in to try it on. I can't even zip up the pants because I'm so fat. They were a 36. We tell the lady at the front desk that the jacket fits perfectly but the pants are way too small. Perhaps there was a mistake in pairing the two. She leads us back to jackass man and starts telling him about the situation. He rudely interrupts her, "Can I just talk to my customer?," all while shooting her a menacing look. I tell the guy about my little problem and he continues to belittle me in front of everyone. "Why did you pick athletic fit? You are clearly not athletic. Look at you. You are not athletic. Look at your belly." All the while he is tearing me down, he is looking at me as if repulsed to the point of puking. At this point I am fuming. I'm ready to beat the living shit out of this guy right in front of my mom. But I hold back. I interrupt him and say, "I know I'm not athletic. You don't have to tell me that. I look in the mirror every day. I'm not blind. The sales guy told me to pick athletic because my shoulders are wide and the regular jackets are too snug." Then he starts lecturing me on how you can't mix and match jackets with pants and if I think he's going to do that then I'm wrong. So I tell him that I can read and I've already read the damn signs. He tells me I'm SOL and that I have to buy whatever fits the best. He's wrong because I don't have to buy shit. We stormed out of the store right then and there. That bastard. My mom said she would have been crying if it was her.

Lesson learned: Apparently, I'm fat. As if I didn't know that already.