I've finally begun my "new job" at a home improvement store and because of their dress-code I found myself in need of some new clothing. More to the point, I need new clothes because the only things that fit me are stretchy "athletic-wear" types of clothing, which are strictly prohibited. I can squeeze into a few pairs of pants, but they aren't exactly comfortable and they don't allow for the best movement and I need to be able to move as I'm a cashier. Ordinarily a cashier might be just a "standing" position, but for this job it's definitely not (and I'm glad!) so I need appropriate clothing.
Polo shirts and khakis seemed like the best bet and would suit me for many uses beyond "work clothes" as they are basic enough to be worn in a variety of settings. When I first started my job, my mom and I went to a Meijer (like a smaller-scale Wal-Mart) to pick up some basics that would not break the bank. I had no pretenses, I went to the plus-sized department and got some size 18, size 20, and size 22 pants; I also picked up a few shirts that were XXL, which usually are a bit loose on me or fit "just right," in my opinion.
I walked into the dressing room, feeling rather indifferent, and then I realized I couldn't get ANY of the pants to even begin to go over my lower hips/thighs... when I squeezed into one of the XXL shirts (I'd gotten the same shirt in multiple colors) it literally fit me like a medium and looked horrible. I don't know how I managed to fit into it, though I did have a heck of a time getting out of it. Needless to say, nothing came close to working so I walked out and the girl at the main counter for the dressing rooms said, "I can take anything that you don't want or that doesn't fit" and I handed her EVERYTHING. She looked a bit startled and then said, "Oh, one of those days, huh?" Yeah... Don't get me wrong, even though she didn't strike me as a girl to have to worry about having "those days" very often I knew she didn't mean it in some snotty "Lose the weight, FATTY" way. In any case, it was still incredibly humiliating -- even my mom looked quite a bit crestfallen.
Let's be realistic, though, it's a no-brainer to say I've had plenty of days where I tried on things that didn't quite fit or looked terrible or wouldn't zip/button as they should, but that was one of the WORST experiences I've ever had in a dressing room. Not a single thing came close to fitting and I'd "aimed high" -- I might have expected snugness, but not that. I felt defeated and very, very fat.
The next weekend I spent the last of my money on two items from Target, a denim skirt (that I wear with leggings because I can't wear skirts without my legs rubbing together uncomfortably) and a pair of khaki-colored bottoms that fall somewhere between capris and Bermuda shorts. They fit, but I can't wear the skirt too often as it's a fairly memorable piece of clothing when worn as I have to wear it, and when I'm working 8 days in a row (as I did last week), wearing the same khaki shorts every day is not going to do. They're both size 22 and they go well with my Men's polo shirts that I'd gotten from Meijer (after the humiliating encounter with the Women's department).
I know I'm not the only woman to struggle with these issues and that's why I write this, because I know so many women -- regardless of whether they're an 8 or an 18 -- go into a store never knowing if they're going to leave feeling like a heifer or a hottie. Why do stores, manufacturers, designers, want us all to feel so horrible about ourselves? Why do they want to shame us? It's frustrating enough to actually be overweight and struggle with finding clothes, but it's even more frustrating to know that all these people WANT it to be a struggle, want me to feel shame, want me to dress like a dishrag...
When I was a teenager (probably 14 or 15) I was in a Wal-Mart with my mom, trying on some jeans, and I'd had to upgrade from the Juniors department to the Women's department. I'd tried on a few pairs of pants and one particular pair looked good -- my mom asked me what size they were and I said, completely serious, "18 Wide." She was confused for a second and then started laughing hysterically and I couldn't figure out why. She then explained that "18 W" meant Women's size 18, not 18 in Wide. Oops, classic mistake, but in my defense I figured it was like shoe sizes -- a 10 W is a 10 Wide! Besides, isn't that how the stores want us to feel? We're not women, we're wide.
I also remember the first time I went into Lane Bryant, it wasn't much after that 16 Wide moment and I remembering thinking it was QUITE a bit more expensive. We went in their because I needed something to wear to my grandpa's funeral and my mom had suggested it because she thought we might have better luck, which we needed as we were running low on time. We went in and the sales people were so nice -- they didn't make me feel inadequate or as though I shouldn't be shopping there -- though they did inform me that I was NOT a size 16 or size 18. At Lane Bryant... I was a size 14!!! Or, as they said, "the smallest size we carry!" It's as if they knew how defeated I felt, how as a teenage girl I struggled with feeling like the fat cow in a sea of lithe cheerleaders, and they did their best to make me feel okay about myself. For the first time in my life I felt the way a girl should feel when she walks into a store: good. beautiful. worthy.
Now, a size "22 Wide" at one store, I haven't felt that way in a long time and I know it's no sales associates fault, it's my own.
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"In order to change we must be sick and tired of being sick and tired."
[Author Unknown]
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