The saga of the stolen trousers

Sometimes life's events are so ridiculous that all I can do is stand back and  enjoy the show.

This afternoon was my usual pleasant visit to the hairdresser. Despite the thinning hair, I still want it to look good and I felt more alive today so I traveled down to Covent Garden for my hour in the chair.  On the way down I figured that I had about an hour to window shop and enjoy the big city.  The first thing I saw was a big 50% off sale sign in Marks and Spencers.  Now this was an invitation too good to pass up and as quick as a shot I was in there.

I love going through sale racks.  'Sale' is always my favourite designer, right up there with 'Reduced'.  I enjoy the feeling of hunting that this brings out in me.  I enjoy it even more in foreign countries, markets and secondhand shops where I have no idea of what I might find.

To get back to the story - Marks and Spencers seemed to have a lot of nice clothes in my size.  I guess this is an advantage of being large in a country of skinny women, or at least skinny women who frequent this chi-chi Covent Garden branch. Happily loaded with armfuls of clothes I found the fitting room. First sweater -nah, second shirt - ugly colours, now for the difficult bit - stripping off my boots and jeans to try on the trousers.  This is my least favourite thing to do when out shopping.  I do not enjoy the sight of cellulite-laden thighs in full-length mirrors, especially mine.  Well, this is where the story starts to get interesting.

From previous changing room nightmares I realised that if the trousers I wanted were wide-legged enough I could usually tell if they were going to fit by slipping them on over my trousers and boots.  This way I didn't have to get undressed as I always feel a bit too vulnerable in those changing booths.  I carefully pulled these great black trousers over my boots, pulled them up and lo and behold, wonder of wonders, they fit and they looked good.  A tad loose I thought since I still had my jeans on underneath, but pretty good, nothing that a little alteration couldn't fix.  Just as I was admiring myself in the three-way mirror an alarm sounded.  Ignore it, I thought, but no, it went on and on and a moment later the shop assistant shouted 'everyone out, right now, FIRE! Leave the store NOW!

So picture the scene - there I am, two pairs of trousers on - looking pretty nifty, I must say, debating as to what to do.  Should I take the trousers off?  This would take more than a moment and when I pulled back the curtain to my booth to see other people's progress out of the shop, I was the only one in the fitting room. Or should I just run out of the shop wearing the two pairs of trousers?

I chose to run.  I was the last person upstairs in the shop by this time. I ran down the now defunct escalator, through the food hall, all the while smelling smoke and wearing two pairs of trousers.  I got outside and realised that in effect, I had just stolen a pair of trousers.  I stood around with the other ejected customers very conscious of the trouser situation and considered my choices.  I could wait with all the others until the fire alert was over, but by the smell of smoke and serious Fire Department presence I guessed this would take some time.  Also, how to explain wearing the trousers - for sure it already looked like I intended to steal them by putting them on over my clothes.
Meanwhile I was going to be late for my hairdresser appointment.

So, I walked away and decided to first, take off the second pair of trousers as soon as  possible because I felt like a total idiot and it was very warm.  I walked towards my salon and passed a McDonalds. Thank goodness for public toilets! I eventually peeled off the second pair of trousers and there it was - the security tag!  I was officially a thief. I went to my hairdresser and told him this story.  His view was 'steal the trousers - why not?  You already did'.  He reckoned that my husband being a teacher with a classroom full of technology tools, could find a way to remove the tag. I reckoned bringing obviously stolen trousers to work would not do my teacher husband's reputation much good, though it might add to his street cred with his students.

I decided to take the trousers back to the store and pay for them. It was the decent thing to do and would surely earn me points in the afterlife.   Disappointingly there was no fanfare for an honest customer, or congratulations for me on not being a thief, but I paid for the trousers, the security tag was taken off and now I can try them on tonight without jeans underneath and see if they actually do fit!

This has to have been one of the more outrageous days I've had recently.