So it is the holidays and cold (for Los Angeles) and I thought I would do some holiday gift buying and maybe pick up a new sweater while I was there. I was feeling pretty good. Don’t like shopping much anymore. Did I really just say that? Don’t have the energy for a long shopping day but it is the holidays, I am in the spirit, I will give it a whirl.
I pick up the gifts I need and am now in search of a sweater. I pick out two cute ones and am off to the dressing room to try them on and then head home. But in Morgan’s world nothing is ever as easy as it seems. So here we go….
I am in the dressing room trying the first sweater on. I have both arms in the sweater, it is pulled down over may head and shoulders and suddenly I am locked. I cannot move. I am wriggling like a butterfly trying to free itself from its cocoon. I am stuck. I bend my arms and try to grab the shoulders of the sweater to help pull it up. I am now beginning to look like a pretzel.
I am getting nowhere fast. So I get an idea: if I lean over I can let gravity do its thing and help free me from this sweater. So that’s what I do. I am now twisted up and bent over, keister to the ceiling. My head at my feet (I will admit that amidst all of this I stop to marvel that I could still touch my toes, if in fact my hands weren’t tied up in this garment) so the sweater falls over me inside out and I can pick up the hem with my hands. But now my butt is still in the air, my midriff is exposed, you can see my bra but my head is covered in the tangled sweater that has my arms hostage. I know some of you are thinking … This gal is wacky.
Anyway, where was I… oh yes, and to top it all off now I am freezing, and I don’t mean cold. With Parkinson’s we get something called freezing. (I am going to get my Parkinsons dictionary out to give you a definition. I don’t trust myself to define anything because I might make up something.) Freezing: the temporary, involuntary inability to move. Lucky us, huh?
So now I am tangled in a sweater and freezing! There’s a word for that…
Suddenly I hear the sales person coming down the hall opening doors to the dressing rooms to clean out the unwanted or misfitting clothes that have been left by other shoppers.
I start to panic. Did I lock the door? What if I didn’t and she just barges in here to grab the clothes? Oh gosh, I hope I have nice underwear on. She is in the dressing room next door. I can hear her picking up clothing and hangers, all the while muttering to herself about crazy shoppers. She takes the clothes and I can hear the sounds of her putting them on a rack and now her footsteps as she makes her way back here. My breathing gets short. Oh no here it comes, please no, let it stop.
She grabs the door knob and twists it. I am doomed. Nothing happens. She shakes the door. I am as quiet as a church mouse with laryngitis. Then she knocks on the door. “Anybody in here?”
I am frozen, tangled and half way to a panic attack. I very softly reply “uh huh.” She continues trying to open the door… “Do you need any help?” A small “ah…..nope!” Slips from my upside down lips. “Well if you need any other sizes or anything, call me,” and I hear her footsteps as she heads back out. I never really noticed salesperson footsteps before, but I guess since my head is about 5 inches from the floor right now, my hearing capabilities are increased.
But I better get back to the problem at hand, how to unfreeze myself. I remember reading something about shifting your weight from one leg to another. OK, might be difficult in my position, but I am game. Just hope I don’t fall over because then I might look like a half dressed turtle stuck on its back. So I begin gently rocking back and forth. Are you getting this picture, because I am starting to giggle now. At least I have averted the full blown panic attack. I then remember something about rhythmic music, so I start humming to myself and trying in my own special way to march to my own beat.
After awhile I feel myself starting to unfreeze. Woohoo! I slide the bottom edge of the sweater under my toes to stabilize it. I then can pull my torso up and out of the trap I previously referred to as a sweater.
Next time I want to shop for sweaters, I am going for a cardigan.
2 thoughts on “The Perils of Pullovers”
oh man! what horrible thing to go through! can you go shopping with someone so that doesn’t happen again? Im glad you saw the bright side of it. I have to help my mom getting dressed sometimes but she is elderly and needs help sometimes.
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Love the way you write & your positive attitude. My husband was just diagnoised with P.D. & can not walk without walker.
My name is Delena Bobbera
Andie Berman Matis is my X-sister-in-law Hang in there!!!!
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