I was alone in the change room.

I doubled checked this fact when the saleswoman called out to me from the other side of the door, “How are we making out?”

 “Fine!” I called back warily as I scanned the area for possible signs of company. However the only other occupant of the room was the body-obscuring undergarment that I had chosen to try on.

In 28 hours I would be attending a family wedding and I knew the gown I planned to wear would not be enhanced by any bulges or bumps caused by my enjoyment of chocolate cake.

There was no way I was getting into that dress unassisted.

Eyeing the small beige lycra body suit hanging on the hook, I contemplated how best to put it on. Given that it was about the same size as my sock, I decided to try feet first. I lifted one leg in and pulled. It slid up over my ankle and above my shin before coming to rest just below my knee.

I tried putting my other foot in and succeeded only in losing my balance and falling backwards.

The sound of my bottom hitting the mirror brought the saleswoman running.

“How are we making out?” she trilled.

I wanted to trill back “We may have slight bruising on our rear-end.” But once again I answered “Fine!”

I had two choices. Remove the underwear and start over, this time head first; or leave the calf-clenching garment where it was and reap any possible rewards.

“Wow. She has the lower left leg of a 20-year-old!”

I decided to try again from the top.

Pushing both arms through the body suit I lifted it up and brought it down over my head.

Where it stayed.

It occurred to me that leaving my elbows unrestricted might have allowed me the option of removing the underwear upon my sudden captivity. As it was I had manoeuvred my elbows snugly beside my face.

I tried twisting and wrestling in every direction but succeeded only in scaring away the lady in the next change room.

As I stood there, trapped, I pondered what the odds were that this could actually happen to someone. Mind you when that someone is the same person who managed to lock herself in her doctor’s office bathroom and had to use her cell phone to call the reception desk five feet away to let her out - I’d say the odds were pretty good.

However my cell phone wasn’t an option this time. Short of leaning over, grabbing it by my fingertips, flinging it up in the air and trying to catch it with the top of my head, it wasn’t accessible.

I began to twist in earnest trying to manoeuvre my way out of what I was beginning to believe was an alien being. The only good thing about the underwear being stuck over my head was that I couldn’t see the bizarre dance I was doing in the change room mirror.

Finally, I worked one elbow free, then the other. I yanked the bodysuit off my head and threw it across the change room. I didn’t move until I was sure that it wasn’t going to move either.

Once again, the saleswoman was at my door. “And what did we decide?”

What did we decide? Had ‘we’ just finished a battle to the death with a beige lycra undergarment?

I sighed and called over the door.

“Do we have it in a size 14?