Paul entered a shop. I complained. We were supposed to go to the next shop for our routine weekly shopping. As usually happens, he doesn’t want to buy anything for himself, but he insists that I should. I ended up picking a couple of sportive items for my classes. When I was about to pay, the shop assistant asked:


“Don’t you want to try it first?”


“Having in mind that I don’t buy ninety per cent of the stuff that I try, and that I usually feel happy with ninety per cent of the things that I buy without trying first, no! But if you insist, I will” I replied.


“It’s a small size,” she pointed out.


“I know. I am being careful buying small, because usually I buy XS – in South Africa, for instance. Where do you import from?” I finally asked.


“We import from USA,” she explained.


I paid and left. A few hours later I put both items on and found them to be rather small. Strange, I thought, maybe because I am buying from another country where the sizes are different!


I returned to the same shop where the same assistant displayed a triumphal “Didn’t I tell” written all over her face. I humbly swapped the S gear for M, wondering all the way back home if I wasn’t putting some extra kilos without even noticing them and if I should have bought it at all. I knew it was going to happen what usually happens when I buy stuff that I don’t really need: I throw it in some drawer to discover it months or years after, when I decide it’s time to wear it or to give it away.


Anyway, before burying it somewhere, I decided to put it on. Just in case… This time it fitted perfectly. It was in the process of folding it that I discovered the tag. There it was, in very small letters: 12 to 13. That means that the average 12 girl weights around 50kg.


As I showed it to Paul, he spent a day kidding met. I truly don’t mind about age, but I couldn’t stop wondering which size is wrong.