Pretty young woman: "Are you finding what you need?"
Me: "Well. I need some jeans. That fit."
PYW, looking at the jeans I am wearing: "Oh. What size do you wear?"
Me: "No clue."
PYW, looking at the jeans I've pulled off the rack: "Well, you're not that big!"
PYW: "Ok, how big are your hips?"
I tell her my hip and waist size, adding: "AND! I can't wear anything low-rise."
PYW, scoffs: "Yes, you can."
Me: "CAN'T! I'm long-waisted; low-rise are obscene, mid-rise are low-rise, high-rise are mid-rise."
PYW shakes head, and grabs handfuls of denim off the rack. "Now, dressing room. These" waves a pair of jeans around "are going to look really tight. Trust me, they stretch."
In dressing room.
Me: "Holy &%!#."
Me: "You weren't kidding about tight."
PYW, severely: "Let me see."
I open the door.
PYW: "Those look great!"
Me, turning to look at my rear end in the mirror: "NO! It looks like I've got the QE2 back there!"
PYW, rolling eyes: "They are going to stretch. Trust me."
Me: "There is not enough stretch in anything to cover THAT."
PYW: "I am not going to let you leave here in anything that's inappropriate."
Me, looking again in the mirror where "inappropriate" is stamped all over my behind.
PYW: "They are long, though. You weren't kidding. All your height is in your body."
PYW, cheerfully: "I'm going to call Alterations. They'll hem them free."
PYW: "They'll stretch."
Me, severely to the jeans: "You do know you will spend your entire existence in the closet, right?"
Go listen to some good music: "We're Desperate" from the album Wild Gift by X.