Skinny Shamed in TK Maxx (UK TJ Mxx) by Someone Who Can't Count and Delicious Retaliation Gather around my lovely shitlords and shitladies, it's time for another story. So I recently broke up with my long term partner (living together, cats together, both families were expecting the proposal this Valentine's day I think.. But things were stale and I didn't feel like either of us wanted to continue just coasting along together. Bit the bullet and ended it, and have been working out - until an injury yesterday in the gym - to fill the void.) As a result of working out a bit more and not eating so much 'easy' and 'convenient' food with him, I've shed a bit of weight but made up the loss in muscle, that said, I have definitely toned up, and I've gone from a UK size 8-10 to a UK 4-6 (US 4-6 to 0-2). I don't look 'scarily' thin, I'm toned and more athletic and I still have an ass, hips and amazingly my breasts, though already quite small, didn't go AWOL, and I am very grateful for the sports I do.  ANYWAY! Having provided context and measurements, I had to go and get new clothes in order to wear things that won't fall off me, or reveal my underwear to the world. As some of the UK shitlords and ladies know, TK Maxx is great for buying stuff because the sizes tend to run a little bit smaller than other stores and you can occasionally get stuff cheap as chips as the clothes might be last season, or there might be a slight issue (wrong size on the label, or a slight run in the brand tag during production). With that in mind, I found the Christmas voucher my ex bought me for the store and went shopping for some stuff that would actually fit me. Having popped in, I found an amazing pair of camel coloured cord trousers that I instantly fell in love with. Checked the price and discovered it was heavily discounted from €30 down to €10! (And I mean from TK's pricing of €30 down to €10, none of that RRP stuff!) No marks on it, no stains or damage, I was both chuffed and curious why these were on sale. Put them in the basket and continued looking. After compiling a small hill of clothes to try on because I still don't know what does and doesn't fit me, I went to the changing rooms where I was met by an hample-sized sized staff member. She glanced at my basket and before I got to say "I know, 10 at a time" apologetically, barks "That's too much! You can't bring those in! Only 10 or less!' and glowers at me. A bit shocked by her aggression, I said I knew about the max amount and that I was hoping to do 'rotations' with the clothes, leaving the basket beside her at the counter. (Which is what the staff suggest themselves). She clicked her tongue in frustration, looked me up and down and uttered a low "fine" like it was causing her pain to be in any way decent and shoved a plastic square with '10' on it at me. Marginally confused, I went to the dressing rooms with 10 items swamping me. Out of the 10 items, only 1 fit me in a way I liked and wasn't hanging off my waist (the camel trousers!). I return with all 10 items, show them to her and politely explain that I'll keep the trousers and return the other items (9 items), but that the trousers would go into the basket, ergo I was taking 10 more items. I start to pick up the clothes and suddenly she barks "No no no no no! You can't do that!", confused, I asked why and she told me I had to give her back the plastic marker with '10' and get one with '9' instead. Even more confused I ask why. Sneering, she tells me that I am returning 9 items and keeping one item, so I can't have a marker with '10' on it if I am returning 9 items. Perplexed, I look at her, my basket and then the marker, and explain that the trousers are going back into the basket while I take another 10 items out to try, and that 9 items returned and one item in a basket makes up 10, and considering I am taking out another 10 items, the plastic marker should still be okay to use? You'd swear I had slapped her. Glaring at me, she used a super sickly sweet tone and told me that I wasn't "allowed" to do that, and that I was only giving her 9 items, thus 9 marker was necessary. Okaaaaay.... Having talked in circles at this stage and realising the woman was a complete moron, I decided to just give in and trade the 10 marker for a 9 marker and just bring in 9 items. Thinking it's all been settled, I start to select which 9 items to bring in, while the ham keeps throwing looks at me and scrutinising everything I pick up. I put the trousers on top of the remaining pile of clothes for trying on on the 3rd clothes 'rotation', and head into the changing rooms. Having successfully settled on one nice top out of the 9 items, I go back to her counter to hand in the 8 and get another 8 (I figured that she was going to do the whole illogical math malarky again and just wanted to bypass the irritating cycle.) plastic marker 9 traded for an 8, I go over to my basket and notice that the lovely trousers aren't there! Confused, again, I glance up and see them on a rail just visible from the room its in which is opposite the counter. I pretend it's a simple mistake and tell her that the trousers I was going to buy were on a rail and that I thought they were in my basket. The fat fuck whirls (well, stumbles) around to face me and goes to deny it, before she realises I can easily see the trousers on the rail. Annoyed that I 'saw through her plan' or whatever, she snaps and says that they clearly won't fit me. Now, that made no sense to me, and initially I thought she was telling me that I was too large for them (I was wearing my winter coat as I went in and out of the changing rooms because it has big pockets and I wasn't going to leave my phone and purse unattended.) Nope! She again glares and me and, having given me a disgusted look up and down repeats that they won't fit me and "They're too big for you". At this point I felt like laughing my ass off as those trousers were a '1' (I have no idea what a '1' is but I think it's a UK 6?), I tell her they're a 1 and that they do fit me. She shakes her head, her fat body jiggling with the aftershocks of the mild form of activity. "No, they are too big.... You are very small. Too small". Now, that's when I started to laugh. I told her that they did fit me, and that even if they didn't fit me, I had the right to buy the items I wanted to buy, and that her hiding the trousers seemed really weird, like she knew it wasn't appropriate to do so. Immediately she blows up and starts REEEing about the fact that she was trying to save me money and that I could probably get something similar in "the kid's section". I stopped laughing and smiling. Bitch went too far. I asked her to repeat herself, but of course she started back pedalling. In a very icy tone I told her to give me the trousers now. Meek and terrified I was going to inform her manager of what she did and said (which I should have done but couldn't after something detailed below), she all but fell over herself getting them from the rail. Refusing to look at me, she brandished the trousers at me and then started doing a weird 'harrumph' phlegmy cough. Disgusted that she might mark the cord, I snatched them out of her hands and went to walk off. But bitch couldn't help herself. "So rude!" I hear her mutter to herself. And that my shitlords and shitladies is when my limit was reached.  Me: "Sorry? Did I just hear you correctly?" Fat Fuck: '....." Me: 'No, no, you said something. I heard you. What did you say?" Fat Fuck (looking at her hands like there might be food under the fingernails): "I said nothing" Me: "Really? Because from where I was standing, I'm fairly certain I heard you refer to me as rude. Did you call me rude?" Fat Fuck: '....." Me: "Right so. You called me rude, you clearly hadn't expected me to hear it, and I understand that you might not have expected me to hear it, but considering your size, it's harder for girls like you to whisper quietly." Fat Fuck's head snaps up. Me: (continuing), oh, maybe that didn't make sense to the person who can't count and thinks she can be passive aggressive. I mean you're heavy, like very heavy, so when you talk your voice is heavier, it's because of the weight on your chest. It makes it harder for your lungs, so when you talk you put more effort because everything's weighing down, meaning you're a lot louder than you realise. And I suppose larger too. See? that's rude." At this stage hammy is just staring, her mouth hanging open like a pig waiting for the apple before being roasted. She goes to protest but I cut her off. Me: "What? Am I not allowed comment on your size even though you have no problem commenting on mine? Or is that because I'm skinny and you're fat? You're allowed hide clothes I intend on buying, and I'm not meant to say anything, and ignore when you tell me I'm too skinny for my clothes, but if I tell you that you're FAT, that's not okay? Guess what, if you don't want to be called fat, stop being fat. It's pretty easy. You just need to shut your mouth first." And with that I walked off. It might have been cruel, and it definitely prevented me from being able to report her behaviour to managers, but my god did it feel good to put her in her place. As for the shopping, when I got to the actual check out, the older man who served me was a lovely gay gentleman and a fan of fashion. He oooohed when he saw the trousers and told me that they would look so good on me, and gave me a lovely smile. After using my voucher I got the trousers, top and some bathroom stuff for €7.95.  But shitlording that fat rude cunt was priceless. (Edit, added '3rd rotation' and fixed formatting)