Saturday, July 20, 2013

Does Size Matter?

I have worked in retail management for over 15 years and I spent part of that time as a bridal consultant.  When you work with brides, you must convince them that the size that they usually wear is not their gown size.  My job was to provide them a dress that fit their body regardless of the number printed on the label.  In the end, they looked beautiful and no one knew what size they were wearing on their big day, except me.

This week my husband gave me an evening away from my kids, the kitchen and from household stress.  I got to go shopping without two preschoolers in tow!  So I found a few things and then spotted the clearance rack.  I found this cute two-piece swimsuit, in my size, for only $6.  Okay, ladies you know the frustration of swimsuit shopping!  I was actually somewhat excited because the suit was cute, all black and cut in a way that would flatter my body.

In the dressing room, I found myself in an awkward situation.  I got the top over my head, but the built in bra was snug.  I wiggled and squirmed until it was on.  Hmmm, well, let’s just say it was tight.  The breasts spilled out of the top and bottom of the bra, not good.  Then I went to take it off.  I couldn’t!!  I yanked it down to my waist and it scraped my skin.  There was no way it was going to stretch over my bum.  It had to go back the way it came.  I jumped and contorted and it refused to come off over my shoulders.  I looked at myself in the mirror there was the black tourniquet stuck to my armpits with my breasts sitting underneath.  What on earth was I to do?  Get help?  Ask the person down the way to get this swimsuit off of my fat body?  Holler for help from the teenager at the register and scar her for life?  I gave it one more try.  Pulled one arm through and at last the blasted thing popped off!

Even though the tag said it was my size and no matter how much I wanted it to fit, clearly, the suit wasn’t going to fit me.  Right now I don’t happen to like the number on the tag of my clothes, but they fit me.  I don’t pretend that I am still a size 10 when I am clearly not.  We all know those people who can’t admit that they have outgrown their pants and suffer from done-laps disease (their belly has done lapped their belt).  No matter how pretty your face is, a muffin top, back breasts or camel toe ruins your beauty.

In the end, the body that I see in the mirror or in pictures does not fit the me that I feel inside.  When I imagine how an outfit will look, I don’t see the outfit on my size 20 body.  I see the clothes on the size 10 version of me.  I want to shed these layers and get to the person that has hidden behind the comfort cushion for too long.  So when it comes down to it size matters to each of us in our view of ourselves.

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