Yesterday I set out with a simple goal and ended up in tears. All I wanted was a few simple tshirts and a pair of sandals. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? Wrong.
I went to the shoe store first. The worst thing about the shoe store is the illusion that I can have any shoe I want. I walk in and I’m surrounded by choices, right? Nope.
I already know the largest size they carry in women’s is too small for me. (Boom…half the choices are gone. I know the objective now is to select a shoe that doesn’t look like it’s a man’s shoe. All the “cute” shoe options are gone.)
Then I need to look only at the sandals and skip the tennis shoes. (This easily cuts the choices in half again.)
Next I look to see if there are any of the styles of sandals that I don’t hate. After all, if shoe shopping were based on what I like, I wouldn’t be standing anywhere near where I’m standing right now. (There are only three pairs left after I rule out the styles I don’t like and the ones that look like they’re obviously made for men.)
I pick my “favorite” of the three and try it on. It could not be more unflattering to my foot and I quickly decide “No!”
Choice number two? They’re out of the size I need.
The third and last choice is my “Hail Mary.” They have the size I need. It fits. Sold.
I head up to the counter and hand the salesman the shoes. He asks, “Did you find everything ok?” (How the heck am I supposed to answer that one honestly?!) I lie and say, “Yes.” He continues, “We have a sale right now. Buy one pair get the second 30% off. Do you want to find another pair you like?” (…This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?) This poor guy has no idea what he’s wading into with these questions and I’m about ready to say all sorts of things I shouldn’t. Miraculously all that comes out is, “No, thanks.” He finishes ringing up the shoes. I leave the store frustrated, but I’m also thinking tshirts won’t be this bad to shop for. Wrong again…
I decide to go to a store that I’ve shopped at many times and have loved the tshirts I bought there. I get there and head straight to the women’s section. I find some tshirts that are simple, nice colors, and exactly what I’m looking for. I pick up the largest size they carry and hold it up to myself. It definitely won’t fit and I’m not going to bother to try it on. The realization hits me instantly: I’ve just ruled out the largest size they carry. I’m too fat to fit in the clothes they sell…and I’ve lost weight recently. But I also know the size that I just determined wouldn’t fit is actually LARGER than the last size I bought here. Something’s very wrong with this picture! Why can’t clothing manufacturers stop jacking with the sizes?? No wonder perfectly normal sized girls and women are susceptible to body issues! From one shopping day to the next they can jump a size up in clothes.
I finish the other shopping I have to do in that store while on the phone with my husband. He suggests I try this other store I’ve had luck with in the past. I don’t normally shop there because, unless you catch them on a sale, they are more expensive. I reluctantly agree and he kindly offers to meet me there.
My criteria for shirts today are: no prints, not low cut, and no polos.
We walk in and again there’s the illusion of choices. Looking around, all I see are colors I don’t normally wear with prints that I don’t want in styles that are not flattering to my body type. Finally I see a small section on the wall of just plain tshirts and I think I’m saved. There are only about six colors to choose from though and I start deciding. I’m not totally familiar with their sizes, so I guess what size I need in the few colors I’ve chosen and I head to the dressing room. I try on the first shirt and it’s way too big.
I head to the dressing room for the second time with a smaller size of one color of the tshirts. While it fits much better, it’s too low cut for me to wear comfortably. Since these are literally the only style of tshirts in the store, it’s back to the drawing board.
On a normal day, I would have just left knowing this was only going to get worse. Today I can’t because I actually need these shirts soon.
We start browsing around and after eliminating the prints and polos as options I really am only able to choose from styles I don’t normally wear. I pick a few different styles that I don’t absolutely hate and make my third trip to the dressing room. At this point I’m desperate because if none of these work I know I will end up buying polos.
I try on all of them and to varying degrees they are all hideous. One piece is too tight, the other too loose. One makes me look like a cartoon fat person, and another just accentuates all the wrong things. Finally I break. I can’t help it. I start crying. There I am, in a dressing room, looking in the mirror, seeing a cartoon fat person crying, and realizing it’s me.
I clean my face the best I can, change my clothes back, and head back out to get the polos I am already starting to loathe. It’s unmistakable that I’ve been crying though and I catch the attention of one of the employees and my husband. Of course my husband already knows exactly what’s going on, but the employee suddenly wants to help me find clothes that I will “love.” Clothes that I love don’t exist in the size that I am.
I don’t remember what I said to her, but I know it was barely anything and my husband steps in to help explain a little. I walked over to the wall to gather the polos I knew I was going to end up with. What’s the big deal about polos? Nothing. They don’t look that bad on me really and I can control how low cut they are with the buttons. Sounds like the perfect solution, right? Yep. Take a look at my closet and you will see it’s pretty much my only solution. I’m sick to death of wearing polos.
My fourth trip to the dressing room should be a quick one. I’m confident these polos will fit, I’ve grabbed the same size that the too-low-cut tshirts were that fit, I’ve picked the colors that I “want”, and I know they won’t be too low cut. I try on the first polo and it’s too tight. Yep. That same size in tshirts is too small in polos.
I go back out to the polos on the wall and make my selections all over again except the next size up.
Walking back to the dressing room for the fifth time I’m hating life. I try on the first one and it’s slightly too big. I’m looking in the mirror and I think I can see steam coming out of my ears finally. I don’t know what to do for sure, but I’m leaning toward the “buy them anyway and get as far away from here as possible” solution. I look at the tag and discover they’re 100% cotton and I decide I will just wash them on warm and they should shrink a bit. Whether that works or not, I don’t really care about anything quite so much as leaving right now. I buy the shirts and I leave.
I hate shopping. If anyone can relate to this story then you probably can relate to the reason I hate shopping: It’s not about finding clothes/shoes that you like. It’s about finding clothes/shoes that fit among the options you dislike the least.
