Tuesday, November 19, 2013

My Abusive Relationship (With the Fashion Industry)

Let’s be honest, Ladies. Shopping sucks. We all know it does. Especially if (God forbid!) we’re looking for something specific.

How many of you have gone out looking for a specific thing that you’d imagine any women’s clothing store would carry (For example: A basic black pencil skirt, or a basic white blouse without anything crazy on it) and been utterly unable to find it? Or worse, found one that looked on the rack like it was what you wanted, but it turns into something terrible on your body. It fits your hips, but is huge on the waist. It’s tight across your biceps, or your shoulders. It’s too short. It’s too long. It sits completely wrong and winds up being terribly unflattering. It looks great from the front, but turn around and it’s VPL EVERYWHERE. (Seriously, Fashion Industry. What’s with VPL? I’m pretty sure that’s 100% your fault. YOU KNOW WE WEAR UNDERWEAR. How hard is it to use fabric that will take that into consideration? Sometimes, you can even see thong-lines. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?)

It can be so frustrating. I know I’ve wound up sitting in a dressing room practically in tears because NOTHING FITS. Finding a single pair of jeans that fits well can take a full day.

And it makes me want to kill men who can walk in, grab a pair of jeans off a shelf, and buy them without trying them on, confident that they will fit and look good. Hear that? I HATE YOU ALL.

It’s made me realize one thing.

My body is WRONG. I’m too short. My thighs are too thick. My hips are too big. My waist is somehow too small. My breasts are too small, and my shoulders and arms are WAY too big. Seriously, what woman has shoulders this big? And those ARMS? Girl, please. You need those to be WAY thinner! My calves, too. They should be no more than 14 inches around. EVER. The 17.5 inches that they are is FREAKISH. I men seriously. WHOSE LEGS ARE THAT BIG?

Well, mine are. And my shoulders are that big. And so are my arms. And my hips. And my waist. Also, I'm actually short. I have no idea why you think that's not alright, Fashion Industry, because there's certainly nothing I can do about it.

What? I could diet? I could drink that "juice" that is supposed to make me lose 15 pounds in a weekend? I suppose I could, only that's an awful lot like giving myself dysentery. I don't much want to lose 15 pounds of shit and waterweight, because it's unhealthy and won't actually change my size.

And in addition to that, I don't -need- to change my size. And IF I DID it wouldn't matter, because it's not my size that's the issue. It's my proportions. It's the very way I'm put together. It's my bone structure, and my muscle development, and my body type in general. I have no idea what you have against my body type, honestly. I think I'm pretty alright looking. I mean, I'm not perfect, but there's no such thing anyway, so who cares?

I guess you care, Fashion Industry. Or rather, you want me to care. You want me to care a LOT. You, for some reason, want me to think that I'm wrong. That I'm not good enough for you. It's really not okay with me. You're always trying to make me feel like I'm not good enough. Like I constantly need to be more, or better, or maybe just -something else.- Fashion Industry, you're like a terrible boyfriend.

You're always getting me down, and then blaming it on me. You're always looking so happy with every woman I see you with, and you feed me lip service about it. You could look that happy with me, if I'd only doll myself up once in a while. Lose that weight. Slim down my hips (How? By replacing my pelvis with a smaller one?) or by allowing the muscles in my legs to atrophy? You tell me I look "like a linebacker" because my shoulders are broader than you think they should be. You tell me my breasts aren't big enough. You tell me that my waist must be tiny and flat, but that my abs shouldn't be developed. I must work out constantly to be slim, but if I get too strong I'll look "Mannish" or "bulky."

You are constantly shaming me about EVERYTHING about my body. It doesn't matter what I do. I'm always too SOMETHING for you, and not enough of SOMETHING else.

And you know the worst thing? I really don't have anywhere else I could go. You've created this utter dependency in me. I want to walk away, but I really can't. WHAT WOULD I WEAR? WHERE WOULD I SHOP? I mean, should I learn to sew? Should I make my own clothes for the rest of my life? I just don't know if I can commit to that, I mean really.

I guess you've done it, then. You've made me feel alone, and ugly, and like no one else will ever want me because of my strange, awkwardly lumpy body. I hope you're happy, Fashion Industry, because I'm pretty sure that I never will be.