So the other day I was refining my résumé and getting frustrated about the fact that you can fly a fricking space shuttle through the holes in the thing. I decided that the only solution was a shopping trip. My pants have, of late, starting strangling my bloated stomach like a python squeezes his breakfast so it was time for a pair of "fat pants". Most women have a pair of these in the backs of their closets. I, however, am not most women. I smugly gave mine to Goodwill a few months ago. Well that shows me, doesn't it? Obviously unemployment, Maury Povich and bacon jam have conspired against my ass to make it woefully pudding-like.
Anyway, I went to Zellers (just because I park there and walk through that store to get into the Mall) and there was nothing in my size. Uh oh already. Then I went to Ricki's. It's my favourite store as I've mentioned here before but while their tops are gorgeous, their pants are never flattering on me. Nothing. Then it was off to The Gap. Surely I'd find a pair of jeans in a store that prides themselves on fitting all shapes and sizes. Suffice it to say that after trying on all the jeans in a size 14 that they had, I left the store with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Wow, I really have gained a few pounds (she writes euphemistically). I decided right then to just leave the Mall entirely, go home, put on one of my mother's old muumuus and eat the Nutella ice cream I just made. All of it.
On my way out I pass AdditionElle, a store that caters to 14+ sized girls. I used to shop there years ago for tops that could button over my formerly ample bosom. Since I had that "little" issue taken care of, I've never thought of it twice. Well, I thought of it today.
You know the good thing about the "big girl store"? You feel small. The salesladies are curvy, the clothes go up to size 30... even the large display tables and cash desk make me feel like Alice after she drank the Wonderland Kool-Aid. Or ate the 'shroom, I can never remember which.
Anyway, I asked the saleslady for help and she brought me 5 pairs of jeans in size 14, the smallest size they carry. As I tried them on, I started to get depressed yet again. Shit. Now they were all too big. Funny how a 14 at The Gap was muffin-topping me but a 14 here I didn't even have to unzip to put on. It made me realize that I'm probably a size 13 here which exists only in Karenworld along with zero calorie doughnuts, two-week winters and money trees.
The last pair I tried was the one I liked least on the hanger. They had no front pockets, button or fly. Eek. Pull-ons. Killmenow. But everytime I go shopping I hear Stacy and Clinton in my ears saying to try on everything since you never know what'll look good. Well, when I put these on, they looked good. Great, even. A little on the big side but not as bad as the others and the gorgeous thighs. The thighs are soooo roomy. My jeans usually treat my thighs like a casing treats sausage meat. I was looking for fat pants anyway and wearing these made me feel like I'd actually lost some weight. A bit flowy. Perfect. Also, when I sit down in them for more than 30 minutes, I don't see little purple flowers blooming in my periphery like I did with my old jeans.
So, here we are. I own a pair of jeans that fit. Yes, I got them at a store that wasn't my first choice, but they fit and they look nice and they'll do me until spring when I start dragonboating again. Hopefully then they'll find a cosy place at the back of the closet where fat pants normally live and I can pull them out next season. That is if I don't get all cocky again and give them away.