I don't like clothes shopping. Never have, never will.
I just feel that the clothing industry is where the real war on women is. Like someone out there wants us all to either wear sweat pants and t-shirts every day or they have something against women in general. I do not understand it, the average woman's weight is steadily rising yet the fabric used to make our clothing gets increasingly thinner. And stretchier. And less forgiving.
What the heck?
Last year at Easter Mom bought me a dress. I was pretty excited because it was my size. It was not a style I would have picked but I was game. I put it on in the bathroom and from the neck up I was pretty impressed. I went to the full length mirror and wasn't so sure.
I called my husband in for a second opinion. He stood behind me while I turned to and fro trying to get a feel for whether or not this dress would accompany me to church the next morning.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked Lee.
He didn't answer so I turned to see what was up. "Well?" I probed.
Lee looked pained, like he had swallowed something the wrong way and couldn't get it out.
The poor man answered shakily, "I'm so scared right now. Is this a trick? What's the right answer?"
The answer was I looked like a hot dog that had been left in the water too dang long. Lumps and bumps were popping out all over the place. I had tried to wear undergarments that held everything in before and was not happening again. It took three people to get me out of the contraption and my ribs have never been the same. Also, the dress was obviously made from the same type of material that they must use for topographical maps because every hill and valley was highlighted.
The next week I exchanged the pretty dress for a pair of pants with an elastic waist band and two t-shirts.
A few months ago my daughters convinced me to go shopping with them, probably because they know that I am weak after a dressing room experience and that they could get me to say 'yes' to just one more pair of jeans. All shirts are now see through. I'm not even kidding. I guess you're supposed to also buy shirts to go under or have on a fancy bra but I don't get it.
I'm not the only confused one. I've met plenty of confused women in the dressing room. We take turns in front of three-way Mirror of Shame. We say nice things to each other to try and clear the confusion. Clearing up confusion is not easy under the sickly yellow of fluorescent lights, either.
"Oh, I think the zipper is supposed to be open at the top a little. It's a thing now," someone will say.
"When you stand with one hand in the air and one in front of you it looks really good," another offers as encouragement.
I've told my daughters that it's totally normal to hear soft weeping from an adjoining dressing room. "Just throw some chocolate under the partition and leave. She'll be fine."
And that's why I always keep some Hershey kisses in my purse.
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I just feel that the clothing industry is where the real war on women is. Like someone out there wants us all to either wear sweat pants and t-shirts every day or they have something against women in general. I do not understand it, the average woman's weight is steadily rising yet the fabric used to make our clothing gets increasingly thinner. And stretchier. And less forgiving.
What the heck?
Last year at Easter Mom bought me a dress. I was pretty excited because it was my size. It was not a style I would have picked but I was game. I put it on in the bathroom and from the neck up I was pretty impressed. I went to the full length mirror and wasn't so sure.
I called my husband in for a second opinion. He stood behind me while I turned to and fro trying to get a feel for whether or not this dress would accompany me to church the next morning.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked Lee.
He didn't answer so I turned to see what was up. "Well?" I probed.
Lee looked pained, like he had swallowed something the wrong way and couldn't get it out.
The poor man answered shakily, "I'm so scared right now. Is this a trick? What's the right answer?"
The answer was I looked like a hot dog that had been left in the water too dang long. Lumps and bumps were popping out all over the place. I had tried to wear undergarments that held everything in before and was not happening again. It took three people to get me out of the contraption and my ribs have never been the same. Also, the dress was obviously made from the same type of material that they must use for topographical maps because every hill and valley was highlighted.
The next week I exchanged the pretty dress for a pair of pants with an elastic waist band and two t-shirts.
A few months ago my daughters convinced me to go shopping with them, probably because they know that I am weak after a dressing room experience and that they could get me to say 'yes' to just one more pair of jeans. All shirts are now see through. I'm not even kidding. I guess you're supposed to also buy shirts to go under or have on a fancy bra but I don't get it.
I'm not the only confused one. I've met plenty of confused women in the dressing room. We take turns in front of three-way Mirror of Shame. We say nice things to each other to try and clear the confusion. Clearing up confusion is not easy under the sickly yellow of fluorescent lights, either.
"Oh, I think the zipper is supposed to be open at the top a little. It's a thing now," someone will say.
"When you stand with one hand in the air and one in front of you it looks really good," another offers as encouragement.
I've told my daughters that it's totally normal to hear soft weeping from an adjoining dressing room. "Just throw some chocolate under the partition and leave. She'll be fine."
And that's why I always keep some Hershey kisses in my purse.
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Soft weeping - oh, how we have all felt that way! I like to shop now and again but I definitely agree that the almost sheer fabric they are making T-shirts out of these days is sad. I feel like I need to wear three of the things to equal what one used to be.
ReplyDeleteRight, Mindy? It's craziness! I like online shopping - they mail it to me, I try it on, if it doesn't fit I can send it back. :)
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