Friday night I had a meltdown in the dressing room of large and beautiful. I went to the store on a mission to find a few cute shirts for my trip and I was armed with a fantastic coupon that made me feel powerful and sure. I scoured the store looking for something that would be equal parts flattering and forgiving. Something that covered the sure to happen bloated gut of injectable medication and yet not radiate a 2nd trimester belly look.
SO SO SO many cute tops. And they all made me looked knocked up.
I couldn’t find anything that floated over my gut without looking like I had a fit pregnancy magazine rolled into my purse. And thus began my meltdown. Suddenly the dressing room was way too small, my feet started to smell and make me paranoid, the over head lights went onto full beam and I could feel perspiration in my hair. Nothing fit. Not a damn fucking thing.
So I did what any large and beautiful girl would do, I sat down on the provided square meltdown stool and cried. You know that private, silent cry that sounds like you are gasping for air but really you are just constricting your throat muscles so that the guttural keening sound that is clamouring in your esophagus doesn’t escape?
I cried so hard and so quietly that my eyeballs hurt. My new ZFM’s (zits from medication) began to throb and the stress of it all made me sweat down my legs in a way that made me pause to make sure I wasn’t pissing my pants.
Thankfully I was left alone to get the first phase of the meltdown out of my system. I was able to find a not so funky kleenex in my purse and blot away the beads of sweat on my face. I was able to reassemble all of the cute and ill fitting clothes back on their hangers, pop open the dressing room door and announce to no one at all that “nothing was what I was looking for.”
Thank you very much. I will just be skulking out of your store and rushing to my car where I will once again visit the ugly cry.
And just an FYI- the parking lot cry alone in your car is now my favorite cry. I had the doors locked, the radio turned to a sound muffling level, and plenty of unused napkin snot rags. Perfect conditions for getting it all out.
Sure, we could blame the meltdown on the wonky hormone situation in my body, we can blame it on stress, we can blame it on the size of my hips, but really I am going to place full blame on the current line at large and beautiful.
What the fuck, people? What is UP with all of the crazy tent shirts you are carrying now? Can’t I get a nice, tailored, button down/ Something with a little stretch, and maybe a little razzle-dazzle? And what is UP with all, and I do mean ALL, of the sleeves living in a 3/4 length world? And WHEN will you phase out the crop pant? I am a large and beautiful woman and I do not want any unnecessary attention drawn to the size of my voluptuous calves.
Shame on you large and beautiful. Shame.
When I came home GM & Mother were perched in the living room waiting to see my loot. They were very disappointed that a fashion show would not be happening. And I felt like such a loser for depriving them of the joy of seeing me look fabulous. heh.
Yesterday the panic continued. Holy Fuck- I have NOTHING to wear on my trip. Nothing. Well ok, maybe I could make do with some of the old t-shirts I have, but I wanted at least one fetching outfit to feel super cute in. And something tells me that it is just impossible to feel super cute in an over-sized purple t-shirt that is faded around the collar by the peroxide in my zit cream.
So I decided to do some research. Large and Beautiful certainly can not be the only game in town. I pulled out the phone book and scanned the list of retailers in the local malls. Then I saw it. Of Course! Initials One Cent! Certainly they would have a plus sized section. I called them up and was told that the store located in the oldest mall in town actually dedicated their entire upstairs to plus sized chicas.
So once we got GM tucked in to bed Mother and I went forth in the name of large asses to Initial One Cent. And people, let me tell you, score!
Sure there were racks upon racks of old lady pants (you know the flat front, elastic back, tapered leg, denim-esque fabric style), but there is also a plus size line at Initial One Cent that was so very adorable. And did I mention there was a huuuuuuge sale going on? There is way more in the store than is available on line and for the first time in ages I felt cute in a dressing room.
And the other women that were circulating the racks were so much fun. I don’t think I have had that much fun shopping in ages. We were helping each other out. Somehow, in a matter of ten minutes we all knew each other’s sizes and what we were shopping for. I was able to point an older woman towards the brown button downs and then a minute later a plus sized Mama with two adorable children in tow yelled out that she found me some sweaters. How kick ass are fat women?
I am so thrilled that I found some cute things and didn’t let the crush of large and beautiful bring me down. Yes I am larger than I want to me. I am larger than I was a year ago. But I am still me, I am still a girl that wants to look cute. I don’t want to be a wallflower in all black. And I won’t be.