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As all of you know, my family and I have been on a DIY kick. This week's challenge- maxi skirts. Because we're extreme cheap skates, we had to compare prices. Is it cheaper to buy, or to make? To settle this, we took a quick trip from the fabric store to the mall. Upon entering the mall, we strutted our happy butts to the store that, of course, was having a sale.
Stepping inside the shop, the familiar rush of excitement coursed through me as I gazed upoon racks and racks of clothing. Usually, this rush is followed by a downpour of disappointment as I realize that they carry nothing in my size. However, this shop was a completely different story. On the right, a broad-shouldered girl's enemy. The left, a busty girl's paradise. Also known as PLUS SIZE. Finally! I combed the racks knowing I would find my heart's every whim covered in glitter and structured with leather. As I did, a realization hit.
There aren't as many options as there are on the other side. How is that even fair? I continued sliding the hangers across the rack. Then, another realization. Everything's shoved together. While the other side was evenly separated and it seemed you could move easily between each display, my side made it seem like I was Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. As I went between each row, wedging my way between the sweaters and a mannequin (which I almost knocked over) I gazed at one of the employees, hoping she didn't see me almost wipe out. When I thought I was in the clear, I continued browsing. Then I felt the eyes. As I peered over the clothes rack, the employee promptly shoved a top onto the rack with a smirk.
What was she so smug about? Then, as our eyes locked, I knew what game this imbecile was playing. I'd seen that look before. It was the all too typical, "Look at the fat girl who shops in the 14-24 size range" smirk. She acted as if she had invented it. Trust me, she didn't. I got that look constantly growing up. Even when I hit puberty and the chubs morphed into boobs and hips, the look was still there. I knew I would never be skinny, it's just not my body type. I'm too barrell-chested and thick-legged. I'm a plus-sized girl and I've come to terms with that.
However, what I haven't come to terms with is that I'm a plus-sized girl in a Barbie-sized-pushing world. Historically speaking, being on the plus-sized end of the spectrum wasn't a bad thing. In fact, it meant that you were wealthy and could afford to eat filling meals. This ideal still transfers into certain societies today that haven't been touched by size-shaming. In these places, being on the larger size is sexy!
Ultimately, what I'm trying to say is who has the right to deem what is the "appropriate size?" It's not Matel and it's certainly not the cover of Elle; it's you. YOU are the only one that can say what is appropriate for YOU. You are the only one who can say that you're comfortable with who you are and how you look, not a magazine article stating, "Wanna look great in that swimsuit and for him? Here are a couple tips on how to lose those love handles." Excuse me? I already rock that swimsuit and if he can't handle a few pounds, then he can't handle me. End of story.
Although, I didn't purchase anything from that store, I slightly wish I had that way I could have chatted with the size-shamer. I would like to think I would have said something like this. "Now that you're carrying plus-sizes, I'll have to swing by more often! I mean, it only took two years and me signing a petition for plus-size clothing to be available in this store, but that's why they say patience is a virtue!"
Love,
Heldie