The walks with Sable, the running with Frankie and Georgie, the working out with Jamie have all paid off - in the past few months I have lost a significant amount of weight. YAY, right? Well, it's not so YAY every weekday morning at 6:30 when I'm trying to decide what to wear to work. All of my dress pants are too big and I curse the fact that most of them don't have belt loops. For the past few weeks I've been overworking the safety pin in an effort to stay clothed. Finally I had enough and I forced myself to give two hours of my life to go clothes shopping.
I'm sure that everyone's heaven and hells are individually specific as there could be no universal paradise or place of torment. My personal hell would look a lot like Macy's. My eternal damnation would include the task of finding five pairs of pants that fit. I had a two hour preview of this hell last night. I'm 5' 2" thus I'm too short, diminutive, wee for normal clothes -- off to the petite section for me. Petite generally means 5'4" or shorter. It should not generally mean over 70 years of age and choosing to dress in sweaters with reindeers and pants with elastic waists. Why wouldn't petite clothes just be an exact replica of regular clothes with a shorter inseam?? This makes no sense to me. But there you have it - almost an entire clothing section of little, old lady clothes.
You know what else makes no sense to me? Jeans that are size 2PL. Yep - that means size 2, Petite, Long. Huh? If I needed jeans that were long, why would I be shopping in the petite section??
Why can't women's pants be sized like men's pants? Men's pants are labeled with a waist and length measurement so the lucky guys can just grab a pair of pants and waltz out the door without bothering with a fitting room. Women get a number size with no regard to length and since those number sizes and the lengths vary by designer, there is no way to buy without trying on first. Thus my personal hell extends beyond the racks of clothing and into the fitting rooms. If a fitting room could be found, that is. I walked all over this nether world of suffering only to find that every frickin' fitting room is occupied. (Economic crisis? What economic crisis?) I finally found an empty one in the Women's section - empty of people, that is, but not empty of clothes. There were approximately 50 pieces of clothing hanging from every hook and surface in the "empty" dressing room. Me and my 8 pairs of pants barely fit into the available space.
Trying on clothes is as frustrating as choosing clothes to try on. One pair of petite pants is so long they went past my toes. Another pair doesn't even reach my ankles. One size 2 is huge on my waist but way too tight on my butt. Another size 2 can't even be buttoned. Being nowhere near the petite section, I can't just run out and exchange sizes. I'm cold, I'm frustrated, I'm angry and I'm ready to just give in and vow to go to church every Sunday and join a bible study and become a street preacher if it means that I can escape this hell.
I decide to buy two pairs of pants and head off in search of the checkout. There are lots of checkout stations but none of them seem to be staffed. Ergh. I wander some more. I find a staffed checkout station but the sales person is signing the customer up for a credit card (you can save 15% on your purchase, you know) and is not entirely sure what she is doing so it is taking for-frickin'-ever. Another counter, same story. Maybe the abundance of credit card applicants is a sign of the economic crisis after all. I'm sorely tempted to leave the pants and leave the store, but I really need to wear something to work in the morning.
After I finally make my purchases, I have 45 minutes before the mall closes to secure a few more pairs of pants. I run all over the mall, into every likely looking store and finally end up at Ann Taylor Loft. Perhaps normal women, the ones who carry the shopping-gene, know about sizing at Ann Taylor. I didn't. I also didn't know it was not spelled "Anne" - that had to be pointed out to me. I grab what I think to be my size and head to the dressing rooms (mercifully empty!) only to find that these pants are huge! Have the pain and suffering of the past hour caused me to lose even more weight? Nope - at Ann Taylor pants start at size 00, then go to 0, then to 2. Huh. Why does everything have to be so difficult!?
I hate shopping. The end.