Sunday, October 21, 2007
More fat girl musings...
It never ceases to amaze me how many times I have been told, oh, you can carry your weight well--it's all in all the right places. I've heard other people go on and on about fat girls with style, plus size fashion, how having lots of curves are sexy, etc. etc.
But when it comes down to brass tacks, these very same people don't like to think of themselves as plus size.
My little sister has always been the skinny beautiful sister but while she was pregnant with her first child, her legs started getting thick and she began to fill out in places she never filled out before. So, being the older, spiteful fat sister, I used to torture her about how she could be a plus size model since they are a size 14. It was all in love, of course. She freaked out every time I told her I would take her to all the cool fat girl stores. She was like, how dare you insinuate that I could fit into plus size clothing, much less be a plus size model? Whatever. She just had her second baby almost four months ago, and she is basically back to her pre-pregnancy size by working out, eating whole wheat pasta and lean meats. We are now back to skinny sister fat sister mode. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.
I used to go shopping with my sister-in-law Angie at Forever 21. She would take a pile of clothes with her into the dressing room and she always ended up looking like a sweaty, rolled-up sausage because she insisted on trying on a medium. And of course, it didn't fit because Forever 21 clothes are made to fit girls who are built like 12 year-old boys. Come on, my cankles couldn't fit into a Forever 21 size medium. So I tried to talk some sense into her in a very calm, rational tone. You know, like you are trying to get someone to put the gun down. Um, Angie, I think you need a larger size. Why not just try on a large? I think a large would fit you a little better. Laaaaaarge, sweetie. And she would become irate. Meanwhile, I would be standing there amongst all these size two wenches, scratching my head like, dang, can you just try on a bigger size so we can get out of here and get a Cinnabon with extra frosting? Or a pretzel with a large lemonade at the very least!
Yesterday we drove out to Chino so I could buy a few things for myself at Fat Girl Heaven, a store that carries stylish, inexpensive plus size fashions. No, it's not really called Fat Girl Heaven, it's a term of endearment. But I think it would be a pretty good name for a plus size store. The entire store is for big girls...not a couple of pathetic racks in the back...not a bunch of muu-muu's and sweatsuits that a fat lady in Nebraska would wear...not a stingy little half of the store like some places I have been too. It's the whole store. All you skinny girls are spoiled--you don't know how good you got it. A whole store of big girl clothes...wow. So I will make the pilgrimage out to Chino for this and brave the smell of cow's ass.
So I bring my friend Maria Guadalupe Josefina along with me. She is strictly not a plus size. I tell her that alot of the plus size models wear a size 14 or 16--to which she is scandalized to hear because she herself wears a size 14. We discuss how the majority of American women wear this size and that it should be considered normal and healthy. She laments that her size is the first size to sell out, which means there are many other women out there who wear this size and wouldn't consider themselves plus anything. She is still scandalized to hear that she could probably find something that fits her at Fat Girl Heaven and she could probably be a plus size model.
She looked around and said, "Oooh, this really is Fat Girl Heaven! I understand what you mean. I have to stop looking around or I am going to keep on eating because I know there are cute places to shop!"
Okay, so what's wrong with needing to shop at the fat girl store? If it is stylish, fairly priced and you will find clothes that actually fit you and won't cause you to fantasize about having an eating disorder...what is the problem? I just chuckled and continued shopping. It was Saturday afternoon and all my fellow fat girls were out in full force, getting ready for a night out on the town and circling the clothes like sharks chasing after chum. I had to get my shopping on, yo.
As I take a couple of items into the dressing room that smelled like feet, Maria Guadalupe Josefina walks into the next stall and tells me she is trying on some black trousers. Good for her, I think. Then I hear some shuffling, some sucking of the teeth and some mumbling. Uh oh. Houston, we have a problem.
"OMG. These effin pants don't fit!"
"Are they too big?"
"No! They are too small!"
And I am laughing silently in my little, stinky dressing stall. Maria Guadalupe Josefina probably thought she could easily buy off the rack since she wasn't a plus...she probably thought she could grab the smallest size the store offered and she'd be swimming in the pants...she probably thought she would walk out of there believing that she was too small to fit in anything at that store affectionately called Fat Girl Heaven.
And that is what I call fat girl vindication.