First off, I am a large woman. I mean, according to the BMI charts, for my height I should be 107 pounds however, I only weigh that in one boob. Jesus. I am 220 pounds so let’s talk about shopping when you are 5’2″ and 220 pounds and you have ginormous melons.
- Buying clothes is uncomfortable. And trying them on is the closest thing to hell I can get to except I am naked and cold and staring at my fat rolls in a mirror.
- Skinny jeans. What? I looked at pants and they were all like ‘skinny pants with skinny ankles.’ Umm, there is nothing skinny about me and my ankles are swollen from being pregnant… four years ago.
- I found some shirts that are cute… cute if I was a hooker on a Saturday night.
- Why is the mirror full length? The dressing room should literally be a dark box where I see nothing and I just have to go with how it feels.
- Every shirt I tried on, got tighter as it when down. I guess it’s because all the fabric is currently at my boob level and there is nothing left for my muffin top? I don’t know but I just looked lumpy, like cottage cheese but more tan.
- Do buttons and zippers have to be a thing? Can’t you make dress pants with a drawstring so I can still look good and modest but when I sit at my desk I can loosen my pants so I don’t cut off circulation and die? Technology is moving forward… why not the drawstring?
- I think we should do away with numbers on pants. Mine keeps going up and the only number I want to see go up are the numbers in my bank account.
- Jeggins. What the hell. Like seriously? I don’t want anything clinging to my body… unless it’s my husband.
- Why does clothing have to be segregated. Skinny people, this is your section, petite people, here you go and then there is a big neon sign for my fat section. If you are going to segregate the areas, then make it worth my wild. Skinny people, here is your water bar, petite people, here is the salad bar and fat people, here is the deep fried donut you requested. Yeah, I would shop more.
- Every pair of pants needs…and I am saying needs in the most desperate sense… it needs to come with a safety pin. I have been in situations where the button is like ‘fuck this, I’m out,’ and pops right off and the zipper is trying to get off the pants but it reaches the end of the track and is like, ‘hey fatty, I can’t hold you in anymore so I just jammed myself.’ And then the button and the zipper just laugh and laugh while I try to live my life in my hot pink granny undies that I think is comfortable and maybe sexy? But they aren’t, that underwear is pulled up to my boobs but I think I am still cute because they are pink and not white, tan or black. But they aren’t and now I have a neon crotch. So, like I said, safety pins…
Until next time,
Moo-moos could be my next thing… as long as they aren’t white, tan or black.