Ah yes, now I remember why I pay large sums of money to shop at designer stores. It's so I can maintain the illusion that I'm a real size 6. Because people, let me tell you, the folks who make the Wal-Mart clothes can't be bothered with catering to our body-dwelling egos. They have no mercy.
We're going to the beach this month and since I haven't bought a swimsuit in, say 5 years, I figured I was due. Wal-Mart, I had noticed on our most recent grocery trip, had some cute mix and match tops and bottoms in swimwear. I had some spare time today, so I swung by.
And ended up sobbing on the dressing room floor. Well, okay, not sobbing... but I might have sniffled a time or two. Here's why.
I'm a medium girl. Tops, pants, shorts, shirts... bring me the medium. Nothing wrong with that. It's my niche.
So I grab some medium swimsuit tops and bottoms and head to the dressing room. Then head right back out for new sizes. Because I apparently need a LARGE for my ass and a SMALL for my top. Uh-huh. If that smiling little Wal-Mart face had bounced by I would have bashed him.
Whatever. It took me 30 years to get here, but I'm finally of the mature realization that it doesn't matter what size the tag says as long as the clothes fit and you feel good in them. And I feel charming in my large bottoms, so there. It's just a shock after the Ann Taylor and Banana Republic vanity sizing lovefest where sales staff stand outside my door and coo, "Should I bring you the 4 to try on?" while they clear a path to the checkout counter for me. "Easily bruised self-esteem when it comes to beauty," should be tattooed on my forehead.
But hey--I got me one good price on a swimmin' suit. ;)