a too small small (lyn)

Alexander is visiting Cornell.  While he’s there, I ask him to get me a white hooded sweatshirt with the Cornell bear on it.  But only if he’s sure that Cornell is where he wants to go.  He is.  His decision is unequivocal.  “The campus is beautiful and there’s so much to do.  Everyone is friendly, and kids are from everywhere.  I just love it here, but it did snow a little today.”

Alexander calls me from the bookstore.  He's looking for a Cornell hat for himself (he already has a sweatshirt and two T’s) and a hoodie for me.  Before he left New York, we discussed size, color, style, etc.  Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind the burden of this mini-shopping expedition.

“Okay, here’s one that’s nice, but it’s not quite white.  More of a light yellow.”  “Keep looking,” I tell him.  “This one looks good,” he says.  “But it doesn’t zip all the way up; it it’s more like a V-neck and it doesn’t have a hood.”  “What else is there?”  I feel like I’m in the store with him.  Poor thing; he’s probably wishing he hadn’t agreed to this assignment.   But finally he finds it.  The perfect hoodie.

Alexander arrives home around 8:30, energized with the excitement of Cornell, despite the six-hour bus ride.  After dinner, he hands me his purchase.  It is exactly as described.  I love it.  Except for one thing.  Size Small, the label says.  This, after I’ve told him a size Medium.  “Oh,” he says, “I forgot to check the size.”  Then he tries to cover.  “No, I’m just kidding.  You are small.  Look at you.  You're tiny.”  He insists that he really made a conscious decision to select this size, but I don’t believe him.  It’s far more likely that he got so caught up on finding the right style, he totally forgot to consider size. 

I call the store about returns.  Turns out that this small is really really small….equivalent to a size 2 to 4.  A size I’ll never be, but that’s okay.  Size six is perfectly fine with me.