Next weekend My Mr. and I are going to a Mardi Gras masquerade The Dom
is throwing. I scored an amazing deal on a red dress that puts 'the
girls' properly on display, hugs my waist and flows perfectly over my
hips. The issue is that the arm holes are just big enough that my bra
shows through so I need a red bra to wear with it. Last weekend we went
to Kohl's and I tried on what seemed like 100 red bras. We tried every
possible equation to find the right size... 38D is too small in the cup.
38DD is too small around. 40C poked out on the sides. 40D had miles to
spare... You get the point. It's like algebra added to the already
demoralizing experience of buying clothing.
Even
as I work towards embracing the extra fluff on the edges I'm still
forced to contend with the discomfort of "sizing" and the expectations
that clothing manufacturers put on women by the way they make clothes. Apparently having my size hips means I should be 6 feet tall with a giant belly. Seriously.
So today we tried again... First at one of the department stores in the
mall. (I can't remember which ones we went into, and where I even
bothered to make an attempt) and then I resorted to Victoria's Secret.
It pains me to think of spending the same amount on a bra as I spent on
my dress, but I was desperate. The fitting girl said I am a 38DD and
returned with 2 red bras. The dressing room was like a sauna and the
lights were the usual, unbearably bright kind that accentuate every
blotch, every wrinkle and every ounce of back fat. The first bra
squished my sides, dug into my shoulders and gave me quadra-boob. The
second bra also squished all around but poked out in the front on the
sides as though it was too big in the cups. Same size. Same store.
Totally different fit. What. The. Fuck, right?
I
deposited both over-priced bras on the 'don't want' rack and sulked out
with tears in my eyes. On the way out of the mall I did was any sensible fat
girl would- I got a bag of cinnamon sugar pretzel bites with cream
cheese and came home to my sweat pants.
Here's
the real kicker about my body issue moment: tonight we are going to our
first "Socially Nude/ Lingerie Optional" party. The host is the same
guy that hosted the Halloween party. We have run into him since then at
other social events with some of the other Alt-Lifestyle groups we are
all members of. He's been very clear that this is not a play party and
addressed concerns of those new to social nudity such as "What about
accidental erections?"
It's
a big boundary pushing this for us. Despite my lack of shyness, I'm
still really struggling with being okay with the extra weight I've put
on since moving out here. My Mr. has been even more anxious about the party, and
has talked about it at least once daily for the last week. He has also
been doing a lot of clothes shopping, and an equal amount of clothes
returning due to sizing issues.
It's
a mean trick played on us all by an industry that makes millions
telling us all that we are not good enough. They play with numbers and
add buzz words to make each item stand out, while telling us that it's
all standardized and emphasizing your SIZE, rather than your shape.
Once
upon a time ago I was a perfect size 4 and a 32D. I had the body of a
Victoria's Secret model for the first time in my life and couldn't wait
to buy lingerie to show it off. Several online orders and several
returns later I realized that even the clothes in Victoria's Secret are
not made for a Victoria's Secret body.
I just don't understand it... Who DO "they" make all of these clothes for?
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