Bad Fit
One of my friends hates clothes shopping. The way she gets round it is by buying three of every item – identical in shape and make, but in different sizes. That way, whatever her body’s doing, she’s got something that fits – and since it’s all the same colour, everything matches.
She has my sympathy. Aside from navy t-shirts, (of which I have hundreds), nothing makes me feel more miserable than trying on outfits. Jeans are the worst. But even jeans wear out. So once a year, I sally forth, determined to find a pair that aren’t too baggy in one place and too tight in another.
You’d think it would be easy. Yet the pursuit of denim seems to require secret knowledge that has passed me by. Twisted. Straight-leg. Boyfriend. Flared. Boot-leg, pastel, cropped, low-rise. The labels may as well be written in Hebrew. Plus, how do you get them back on the stupid hangers? It’s like the Crystal Maze. In the florescent glare of the three-way mirrors, I freeze, like a rabbit blinking in headlights. And the story always ends the same. Exit stage left, jean-less but with two more navy t-shirts.
It should be funny. But sitting in the changing rooms, tears feel more appropriate.
Why?
Maybe because it’s not just the jeans that don’t fit. It’s everything about me – or at least, that’s how it feels.
…
I’m not like the women I see in clothes stores or read about in magazines. I’ve inherited my dad’s chest and feet. My skin is crinkly and white, not golden and glowing. My hair frizzes in the rain (and on special occasions). When I cry, my nose runs and I make horrible hiccupping noises.
What’s more, I don’t feel like these women either.
I’m not savvy, street-smart, ambitious or go-getting.
I don’t know 60 tips to Drive My Man Wild.
I’m not a domestic goddess.
I’m not a mummy, yummy or otherwise.
I’m not a high-flier. I have no Career Plan or Life Goals.
When I look at these women, a little part of me curls up and hides. They’re beautiful, successful, confident and smart. They have Capsule Wardrobes and Perfect Skin. Their clothes fit and they don’t have issues.
But you know what? It’s as much a fantasy as the perfect pair of jeans.
If they are sucessful how come you’re the one publishing a book.
I’d love to be sucessful to the point of having something published, travelling around the country/world for meetings and talks.
As for jeans – there can never be perfect. To fit well in one place they have to be too big or too small for the other. They are designed so that you cannot win. I definitely could never get away with drainpipe/skinny jeans so it’s boot leg a size too big all the way.
Too true! Finding the perfect pair of jeans is impossible and don’t even get me started on the media!! Baz Luhrman was right “Don’t read beauty magazines they will only make you feel ugly”… I’ve given up reading any ‘women’s magazines’ seriously. Now if I do read them it’s to wonder incredulously and often out-loud about who they think reads their stuff. Seriously, a £200+ pair of jeans considered a ‘bargain’ or ‘must-have’?? I have to laugh cos otherwise I end up feeling stupid, fat or a failure… Don’t listen to those messages, EVER! Much love xxx
PS Sorry if it comes across a bit ranty – it really bugs me!
That’s so refreshing to hear! Not that I’ve not heard it before, but because I so quickly forget it and listen to to the world again.
Thanks :)
As Nathan tasker would say “I am searching for what I have already found. I am trying to become what I am now.” we are heirs to the kingdom and Jesus loves us, with or without skinny jeans.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that no woman can find a pair of jeans that actually fits properly. I’d guess you’d need to go tailored…
It reminds me of something I once read about men’s magazines – if it really was possible to get x body in 10 easy steps, they never sell another magazine. Every issue of these magazines is basically the same, because ultimately it’s not enough.
Thanks so much for these encouragements – it’s funny, I ‘know’ what’s true, but when brothers and sisters tell it to me, I hear it louder than when I tell myself.
Here’s what I’m also taking:
– big bootleg is the way forward
– I’m not the only women’s magazine reader who feels like she’s taking crazy pills
– Jesus loves me. And I’ve already got more than enough in Him.
– bodenmummy is a brilliant name
– men’s magazines also fib to their readers
and …it’s good to rant.