I could just see the news reports.
Although they have yet to name him as a person of interest, police became suspicious when the victim’s spouse refused to attend her memorial service.
“I want to mourn in private,” said Mr. Rizzuto. “Is that a problem?”
Mrs. Rizzuto’s body has yet to be found.
That’s what I imagined when I stood there looking at myself in the dressing room mirror.
In my head, an epic battle for my soul began.
Evil Wanda: That dress is hot.
Sensible Wanda: Who asked you? Where would I wear it anyway?
Evil Wanda: Don’t you have a garden party in a couple of weeks?
Sensible Wanda: You mean the mammal roast? It isn’t that kind of party.
Evil Wanda: It looks like you only need to lose about 7 or 8 pounds instead of 20 or 25.
Sensible Wanda: Thanks.
Evil Wanda: It’s a part of history. You can wear it a couple of times and once Obama wins you can sell it on Ebay. You heard the girl, they’re almost sold out.
Sensible Wanda: I hate the shoes.
Evil Wanda: There’s always Payless.
Sensible Wanda: My tattoo is showing.
Evil Wanda: There’s always laser surgery.
Sensible Wanda: That’s your answer to everything!
Maybe Evil Wanda was right. I tiptoed out of the dressing room to get a better look at myself. There was a new clerk waitng for me.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Well…imagine I had a real hairdo,” I said.
“Of course, a real hairdo.”
“And imagine further I shaved my legs and got my toenails did.”
“That dress is hot.”
“It does look pretty good, doesn’t it,” I said.
I looked around to see if anyone was laughing at me. No one was. That was encouraging. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I remembered hearing somewhere that the dress cost about $125. I heard you could get it even cheaper online. If I gave Mr. Rizzuto a little extra attention (if you know what I mean) maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“How much is the dress?” I asked the clerk. “About $125?”
“No, it’s $148. It’s a part of history.”
$148. There aren’t enough Lewinskis in the world. That was that. I’ve been known to buy stuff I didn’t need before just to keep the sales clerks from talking about me later, but now was not the time for that. I had to plan my escape.
“I think I’ll just have another quick look around,” I said.
I pretended to look at some other stuff. I pointed out that there were similar dresses with nicer patterns. She suggested I try some of them on. We chatted back and forth for a bit until I was sure Pushy Loudmouth Salesho’ was on her lunch break (and not hiding behind the counter waiting to pounce).
“What time do you close?” I asked.
“9 o’clock. Do you want me to put that on hold for you?”
“Oh, yes. Wonderful idea. I have to rush back to work now.” I had been off work for about 2 hours.
“OK Wanda, it’ll be here for you when you get back.”
“Thanks!” I said. Then I hauled ass back to Staten Island.
I told Mr. Rizzuto my story and he said I did the right thing. He said it was too bad though because if I had bought the dress he’d have taken me out to dinner. He might even have worn a tie.
So what do you think? Should I go back and buy it? Have a look at the shoes first:
(Remeber, shaved legs, tonails, blah blah.)