I find that so funny because just yesterday, Disgruntled Husband and I were doing a little shopping on our own. (We wandered Janesville, WI for six hours. Yes. Because we stayed overnight at a friend's house, they had to go somewhere in the a.m., and we were meeting my mom at some point in Janesville because she had the kids. I'm talking to you, Janesville Tourism Department, someone's been sleeping on the job. For all the beauty that Wisconsin has, all you seem to have are aging strip malls and interstate exits.)
I've always been on the...uh...plus-sized side of life. Some days more plus than others. In high school and wearing a D-cup, every homecoming dress and the like zipped to right about there (imagine me pointing to the upper third of my back, right around where a bra would go) and it was frustrating as hell.
So what do I do? Just pile on more fatty tissue so that I can shop in a different department. Makes sense.
As an adult now and seeing more and more childhood obesity-friendly stores, a part of me is like, "Whoa. This is really a problem," and the other part is like, "Hey, I wish they had this store a few years ago. Check out this plus-sized skull corset!"
In terms of the plus-sized lady, there are stages in life that correspond to where you shop. Ages 14-21, Torrid is where you belong. This is the skull corset place. I admit, I've been in the store and I've bought things. Okay, 3 things: a swimsuit, a cute and appropriately-lengthed summer dress, and a bra. And the last of those purchases was 3 years ago. Hey, I'm all for making the bigger high school girl more comfortable, but this place is pretty much for plus-sized prostitutes.
(Edited to add: What happened to shaming the size 14 high-schooler in a Contempo Casuals's fitting room? Moments like this and accompanying my friends to 5-7-9 where they all tried on dresses and I tried on headbands probably kept me from gaining any weight in high school. I suppose Torrid thinks American girls have thrown in the towel. Maybe they have?)
Around the end of college, my friend Cheryl introduced me to
And then there was yesterday. For the first time, I wandered into a CJ Banks. The clothes there seems pretty and classic and not slutty or boob-centered. As I was looking through the racks, Disgruntled Husband told me the item I was holding looked like what a mother-of-the-bride wore at the rehearsal dinner. I shot him dagger-eyes.
Then, as I was admiring an outfit and dreaming of me showing up to soccer practice all put-together and adult-looking, DH tells me, "This place is for old ladies!"
I gently told him that though I may not be ready for a home, I wasn't able to show the girls in daylight without comments from the other moms, plus I tend to have fashion-malfunctions.
He slinked down, took a seat near the dressing room, and waited for his old lady to show him the blouse-vest combo she just put on.
I left without buying anything, but only because a lack of monetary funds.
The last stage of plus-sized clothingness is something between Goodwill and the inserts you get with newspaper coupons...you know, the ones showing the comfortable elastic jogging pants and velcro slippers. I'm not quite to that point yet.
(And hey, just because I shop at the bigger places doesn't mean I've thrown in the towel. I'm working on the whole getting-into-normal-sizes thing. I just can't go naked while I do that.)