“Welcome to Banana Republic,” said the sales rep. “My name is Deon—I’ll start you a fitting room.”
“Thanks,” I said handing over the pants I just picked up.
“You grabbed the wrong size,” he said firmly.
“You see,” Deon said displaying the tag. “These are a size 4 and you’re a size 2.”
“Oh Deon,” I said blushing. “That’s really nice of you to say—but I’m really a size 4…..”
“Nope,” Deon said shaking his head. “You see, these pants here have stretch in them. I’ll get you the size 2—.”
Deon seemed like a man who knew women’s pants—who was I to argue?
“OK, thanks!” I said heading into the dressing room. I sat down waiting for him, enjoying my Pinkberry.
Knock, knock.
“Sarah-- It’s Deon. Here’s the size 2,” he said flinging the pants over the door.
“Thanks,” I said.
The pants only made it halfway up my thighs when I just knew that they were ridiculous. As I was taking them off, Deon knocked again.
“Sarah-- It’s Deon,” he said. “How do they look?”
“Sorry Deon, they don’t fit at all,” I said.
“Let me see,” said Deon.
“No, that’s okay,” I said. “Can you please grab me the size 4?”
“Get out here and show me,” Deon ordered.
I reluctantly pulled up the pants and poked my head out. “Deon, these don’t fit. I look ridiculous.”
Deon opened the door and coaxed me out.
“Turn around,” he said.
“No.” I replied.
“Girl—this is a dressing room,” said Deon.
“Okay, but I REALLY don’t like them,” I complained. “I have a hard time finding pants that fit and---"
“Turn around,” he interrupted.
“Alright…” I said turning around.
“DAMMMNNNN,” said Deon.
“What?” I asked, startled. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing from where I’m standing,” said Deon. “What’s going on back there?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’re packin’ it,” Deon said simply.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“I said, ‘YOU-ARE-PACKIN’-IT back there,’” he repeated as if I had hearing problems.
“Are you serious?" I asked. "What does that even mean?"
“You know,” Deon said confidently. “You got ‘junk-in-your-trunk’.”
“Deon--that’s not nice,” I said.
“Of course it is…. its nice for me,” he said smiling. “I like me a big butt.”
“Wow. Okay, that’s just great--thanks alot.” I said. “So my butt is big?”
“Yep,” he replied.
“Deon, that’s not a good thing,” I replied. “Why would I want that?”
“Girl, you askin’ the wrong Brother,” said Deon staring at my butt. “I like them big.”
Deon is white.
