Saari

Sri Lankan women wear saaris. They wear other things too. Sinhalese women either wear saaris or skirts and blouses. Tamil women wear saaris and unmarried Tamil women wear salwaar kemeez. A few women wear slacks. All professional women wear saaris. As I give formal presentations in my work, I decided to purchase myself a saari

At the Saari store, I selected the fabric I loved. It was tan coloured silk blend with blue, green and apricot accents. I also purchased two stretchy tank tops that are worn with a Saari. Saari fabric is sold in such a length allowing for one end to be cut off and used as fabric for a saari blouse. The salesman measured me up for the blouse. A couple days later, when the blouse was ready, the salesman phoned and Bill picked it up for me.

I tried it on. First, I put it on backwards. Then realizing my error, I tried it on front ways. The darts in the blouse sharpened my breasts into cone shaped points. I had noticed women about town with sharply pointed breasts and had sneered at this most unflattering style. I was not about to have pointy breasts. Secondly, the scoop on the jacket was so low, that it revealed half of my bra and my still full (if I do say so myself) voluptuous breasts.

"Bill, come here and look at this", I called from the bathroom. "You have to come with me to the store when I speak with the tailor. This is way too low and I am not going to show it to him without you there."

So, next day, off we go to the Saari Shop. A half dozen salesmen are loitering about as I explain the problems with the jacket. They suggested I try it on and show them. I entered a change room, donned the jacket and sticking my head out of the change room, I said,

"I will show this to one of you. Just one can come over here and look at this." One man was appointed by the group to look at the problem. He didn't know where to look and he didn't know where to pin and he didn't know where to touch. Then, agreeing with me that there were serious problems with the jacket, the men called Amar, the salesmen who took the original measurements, to come and see what he had done. Amar had stepped out for lunch.

Now, Amar also had to look.

"This is no problem, Madame. No problem at all. Look, we will just do this and we will do that and we need to bring it in here and here." Touch, touch, pat, pat. "Yes, yes, too pointy, you want it smooth, ne?" "Ow", I replied.

Bill stood guard for me as he watched men look at my breasts.

It remains to be seen if the jacket is going to be decent. It still is not ready. However, I did wear my Saari to work on Friday. My first course in interpersonal communication skills was completed and we held a graduation party for the nurses who completed the program.

That morning, I wrapped myself in the Saari the way the salesman had instructed me. Admittedly, it was a bit sloppy looking, but I thought I really had done a reasonable job of wrapping the Saari.

However, upon arriving at the hospital, two of my students, who at first oohed and awed over me wearing a Saari, got down right concerned after carefully examining he wrapping job. They decided right there, in the auditorium of the hospital, that my saari needed re-wrapping.

Firstly, I had the fabric inside out. Secondly, as they unwrapped me, they discovered that white women wear thong underwear (I hadn't planned on revealing my knickers that day). Thirdly, they were intrigued by the shocking whiteness of my skin (white bum). Fourthly, I didn't have on an underskirt. They were shocked by all of the above.

I didn't know I needed an underskirt. Nobody told me anything about an underskirt. So, it was a good thing that we work in a hospital. Out came the surgical gauze and they cut a strip sufficient in length to wrap and tie (very tightly) around my waist. Out came a bunch of safety and straight pins. Then, these two nurses folded and pleated and draped and pinned me up until, I had on a very comfortable, well wrapped and beautiful Saari.

As the Saari was a bit tight around my ankles as I walked, I grabbed the front of the pleated fabric and lifted it up to free my feet and allow me to take bigger steps, rather than mincing about the hospital. I got some lessons about that as well. Apparently, you just pinch a small amount of fabric and lift it up an inch or so, so that your feet can move more freely. Lifting the fabric to my knees was not appropriate.

Pictures: me, my graduation class and one of the nurses who "pinned" me.