I’ll admit it. I have let myself go a little bit. Because I love French fries, and it was the holidays, and I was sick, and blah blah blah, and at the end of the day I gave zero fucks and ate what I wanted.
My clothes still fit … I just feel gross and I am fully aware that there is some extra weight where there shouldn’t be. I’m owning it. I said it. It’s out in the world.
I didn’t feel too bad about it until I treated myself to a little shopping trip for my birthday at Nordstrom. Topshop makes up a good portion of the “trendy” section, which I wasn’t complaining about because I heart Topshop…
…until we got intimate in the dressing room.
I had pulled 3 pairs of pants to try on, all ranging from sizes 10-12 (I’m normally a size 10, but knew Topshop runs small, so I decided to go up a size, just in case). Cute, ripped up skinny jeans. Gimme.
The 10 barely went over my ankles. So I was like, okay, I get it, their sizes are wonky, I’ll suck it up and make the 12 work. Because French fries rule everything around me and this is where I am in life.
The 12 barely went past my God damn knees. What in the living fuck? A big part of me wanted to throw myself in the corner of the fitting room in the fetal position, rocking back and forth crying hysterically listening to “In The Arms of an Angel.” I all of a sudden couldn’t even make eye contact with myself in the mirror because I was just straight up disgusted.
And the kicker of all of this … 12 is the biggest size they had in Topshop pants at Nordstrom. I felt like Regina George trying on her formal dress after eating all of those Kalteen bars … “mmm yeah we don’t carry your size, maybe try Sears?”
I didn’t even want to shop anymore. Even though I had found some cute tops that I adored, none of it was satisfying to me. None of it. I just felt fat, and gross, and not worthy of Topshop. And I kind of wanted an entire bottle of wine, but that was neither here nor there.
And you know what? That is complete and utter bullshit. My mom quickly reminded me that the last time, months and months ago, I had the same run in with Topshop. I tried some shit on and all it did was make me feel bad about myself.
Clothing should not make you feel bad about yourself. It should be a fun expression of who you are. Not a reminder that, mmm yeah, you don’t fit within our dumbass size ranges and maybe you should just eat salad for the rest of your life, you damn heifer.
I think “plus size” is complete and utter nonsense. People treat it like a disease. Ooohh you gained an extra 10 pounds? Shucks, looks like we have to send you out to Plus size pasture. Cue the lightning bolts.
Clothing companies, Topshop in particular … you are there to make women feel good about themselves. And when you don’t go past a certain size, or when certain sizes go from “normal” to “curvy” or “plus” … it doesn’t always make people feel great. Just because someone is over a certain size doesn’t mean they need to be in a different class of clothing. Just sayin’…
So Topshop, your tops are cute, your accessories are lovely, but your pants can suck it. Get it together and start catering to all women of all sizes, even the ones that love French fries a little more than others. A size is a size. Integrate them, shall we?