Yesterday I was reminded why I am doing this.
I went shopping.
Yep. I said it. The S word.
I hate shopping. No, I hate shopping for clothes. I love shopping for shoes and accessories for myself but hate shopping for clothes. But clothes are what some of my girls want for Christmas again this year and I hate giving them money so I take them shopping so we can spend the day together and then I put what we buy under the tree.
Yesterday I took Dani.
We had a great time – even had a great pretty healthy lunch – we shared risotto with a chopped salad and grilled salmon and we said NO to the bread they sat down and made them take away!
It wasn’t until she asked if I wanted to go into a store that catered to plus sizes. Dani thought I needed a date shirt. Of course all the shirts in there looked like I should be pimped out standing on a street corner but they did have some jeans and we all need jeans. They were even stretchy. I got away with getting a size 16. Editorial rant here: By the way, who decided that mom jeans are bad? I mean, I have severe muffin top without clothes on, why in the world would I want to exacerbate that by buying MID RISE JEANS????
It wasn’t until we left the store and I commented on the plus size models in the pictures advertising the clothes hanging all over the walls who looked beautiful and good in the clothes I had just tried on. Dani said they were photo shopped. The girl in the store confirmed they were photo shopped. It was when the sales girl further opened her mouth and told us the girl in the bra advertisement who had abs of steel was a size 12. What??? A size 12 you say??? Then she continued talking (or as I like to remember – continued LYING) when she told us she was a size 12 and she didn’t look like the girl in the advertisement. Wait. WHAT??? The sales girl was a size 12 too??? I thought I looked about the same size as this chick – I only got away with a size 16 jean because they were stretchy – but COME ON!!! A 12???? I’m calling BS. Either that or I totally have huge body dismorphia issues.
I have killer legs – okay calves. Killer calves from wearing 3” heels since I was 12. But from the high thigh to my lower eye lashes, I have weight issues. I hated seeing my ass in the mirrors. Hated seeing how the shirt stretched over my HUGE body. Needless to say I was not in the best of moods when I got home but the thing to know is that I didn’t gorge on comfort food. Unless you count the hot air popcorn later laced with butter after drinking ½ cup of liquid gold also known as eggnog after eating low calorie salsa entering my body by corn chips. This apple body will be the death of me yet.
So, why am I doing this??? So someday I can walk PAST that plus size store into one that I can choose stylish clothes that are not stretchy.