A few weeks ago, I bought a couple of pairs of work trousers in the January sales. Unusually, they were a bit too long, so I am having them altered. Saturday morning, I went into to the local laundry/dry cleaner/tailor.
I walk in, and say to the nice Kurdish man there "I need to get my pants shortened." This was my first mistake, as "pants" in the UK refers to a woman's underwear. Obviously, I didn't need to get my pants altered, I needed my trousers altered. Thank God, I remained blissfully unaware of this gaff until I returned home to tell the story to my Australian flatmate, Corey, who giggles when I say pants (even though they say pants for trousers too in Australia).
The nice Kurdish man asks how short I want them... And of course, I don't know. I estimate 2 inches shorter, but feel very indecisive about this. I assumed, rather logically I thought, that a tailor did the measuring.
In any case, he says I can try them on here and he'll measure. I agreed, and found myself in the back room without a door. He kindly remained in the front room watching riots on Kurdish TV, which I can only assume had something to do with today's elections.
But like I said, there was no door and this was highly embarrassing. I was very thankful to be wearing my nice boycut hello kitty underwear as opposed to something that might have suggested I was a tartish Western woman. Though why he'd assume otherwise when I take off my pants at a moment's notice I don't know. I am sure Kurdish women know how to hem their own pants. In any case, he measures, it's 2 inches, I say more embarrassing things, and he tells me that my alterations would normally cost £16 pounds, but it will be £14. (Incidentally, that basically doubles my trouser expenditure. Oh well, they are nice). I guess this means he did look at me in my hello kitty underwear.
So, tomorrow I will pick up my trousers. I fear I did not adequately convey the utter absurdity of this event.
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