I have huge pet peeves with the fashion industry, nearly all of them related to size. These frustrations, outrage, and annoyances are things i've had to deal with my entire life. I'm not jealous of skinny women. But i am jealous of the clothes they get to wear according to fashion "experts". And I'm not sorry that I have curves, I jiggle, and have parts that move no matter how still i try to be. I don't want to cover them up, I don't want to hide behind ugly matronly clothes. I was never lithe, slender, waif-like, or even athletic. And these days, i don't understand how fashion caters only to those who are. Even after dropping a solid 20 pounds, i still find myself stuck in the middle between ugly boxy coverup women's clothes, and beautiful clothes that show off my curves if they could just be ONE STUPID SIZE BIGGER!
Case #1: Wide calf my ass!
I have one true weakness when it comes to clothing and accessories. Knee high black leather boots are so sexy, that i can't help but admire them. I received my first pair at 15 and never have been without a set. But at 18, i started having to buy what were called "Wide Calf" which increased the price by almost 50$. And so called wide calf = 15 inches in circumference. I asked one of my average friends to measure her calf. it was 14.5". Mine, as a more curvaceous muscular legged person: 18"
Case #2: XL doesn't equal 1X (misses sizes vs. womens sizes)
I've come to realize that smaller ladies whom have never had to shop in women's sizes have absolutely no clue what the difference is between XL and 1X. to demonstrate, next time you're in a store, pick up an XL....and lay your hands flat on either side of the waist. That's about the standard size difference between those two sizes. Also i ask you to draw straight lines instead of curves at the waist and bust area.
Do the fashion designers think that because we don't look like a sewing maniquin...that we turn into oil barrels with arms and heads? Many of us plus sized women are exactly the same shape as smaller women, just bigger.
Case #3: I'm 23, not 63
Ok, most 23 year olds are closer to a size 12 if not smaller. But i refuse to believe that women even in their 30s want to wear the same style clothes as their mothers. I know while i love my mother dearly, there's no way in hell that I would want to dress like her. Yet i see the same polyester slacks, button down lace applique tops and boxy sweaters on the sales racks in my size....as are sitting in her closet. *insert horrified recoil and twilight zone music here*
Yet the young, stylish, hip clothes...don't reach to my size. Stopping short at an infuriating XL.
Believe me, i've been shopping in women's clothes since i was 15. (so much for juniors) I know which stores carry clothes that have small selections which cater to women like me. But there's not enough.
Non-related pet peeve:
A simple black cotton pencil skirt....should NEVER cost 268$ unless it's made out of real gold and has re-sale value!!!
Not for the first time in my life am I considering what it would take to start my own clothing line that is not for skinny women, not for those who are older, more matronly, but young and proud of sporting a few extra curves. If only i was better at sewing and not doing a billion other things in my life!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
The injured invalid update
As many of you have probably heard or gathered, I have a serious injury on my right hand. Turns out, serrated bread knives cut through meat as easily as their steak counterparts. lol.
To set the record straight as various exaggerations have come back to me:
Typing is rather uncomfortable for me so I've been building this entry over several days.
The trip to New York is off in lieu of medical bills much to my disappointment. However when you're bleeding like i was, not getting to the ER is a less than brilliant idea. And medical costs are out of control even if you're lucky enough to have insurance. So looks like New York will have to wait....again.
My heartfelt thanks goes out to my former neighbor Mike for dropping everything and taking me. And to those who have come or called daily to see how i'm doing. No worries...i'll be back to my usual self soon.
Oh...and Vicodin ROCKS!
To set the record straight as various exaggerations have come back to me:
- No, i didn't cut my hand off entirely
- No, none of my fingers were severed either
- There is a deep laceration on the fatty part of my thumb where it joins back up with the rest of the hand
- No, i didn't sever the tendon and still have use and feeling in my thumb
- No, i'm not going to post pictures.
- Yes, it really really still hurts and is healing slowly.
- I'm expecting to get the stitches out next wed/thurs
- I'll probably have the bandages on for a couple weeks after that.
Typing is rather uncomfortable for me so I've been building this entry over several days.
The trip to New York is off in lieu of medical bills much to my disappointment. However when you're bleeding like i was, not getting to the ER is a less than brilliant idea. And medical costs are out of control even if you're lucky enough to have insurance. So looks like New York will have to wait....again.
My heartfelt thanks goes out to my former neighbor Mike for dropping everything and taking me. And to those who have come or called daily to see how i'm doing. No worries...i'll be back to my usual self soon.
Oh...and Vicodin ROCKS!
Monday, August 24, 2009
What is something you couldn't live without?
Most corporations do some form of this.
Almost a year ago, my company did a intensive corporate teamwork workshop. For an entire day. It was designed to identify our personality types and how best to interact with the varying spectrum a work. Part of the workshop was learning about each other through flash cards with insightful questions on them.
One that i remember distinctly was: What is something you can't live without?
Most young people's minds spring to their cell phones or computers or other technology that we typically forget many generations lived quite well without.
People with families might say their loved ones. Or money or more literally...air.
And in fact working in environment where I'm one of, if not the youngest people led me to think about the intangible things that i need in my life.
I'm an artist. I don't think there's a scrap of paper that doesn't end up with some kind of doodle on it. Story ideas run wild in my head. I constantly want to make or create something. And when i'm forced for some reason not to....i start to get anxious, unable to pay 100% attention and go a little stir crazy.
As i sit here writing this entry one handed due to a rather serious injury on my dominant hand... i vividly remember saying: I couldn't live without my hands.
Unable to button my shirt for work, having to find and wear slip on shoes, not even being able to move my computer mouse without difficulty. I'm getting frustrated and all the emotions that come from being unable to help myself. Funny how i knew at least that much about myself.
This is going to be a long 10 days. -_-
Almost a year ago, my company did a intensive corporate teamwork workshop. For an entire day. It was designed to identify our personality types and how best to interact with the varying spectrum a work. Part of the workshop was learning about each other through flash cards with insightful questions on them.
One that i remember distinctly was: What is something you can't live without?
Most young people's minds spring to their cell phones or computers or other technology that we typically forget many generations lived quite well without.
People with families might say their loved ones. Or money or more literally...air.
And in fact working in environment where I'm one of, if not the youngest people led me to think about the intangible things that i need in my life.
I'm an artist. I don't think there's a scrap of paper that doesn't end up with some kind of doodle on it. Story ideas run wild in my head. I constantly want to make or create something. And when i'm forced for some reason not to....i start to get anxious, unable to pay 100% attention and go a little stir crazy.
As i sit here writing this entry one handed due to a rather serious injury on my dominant hand... i vividly remember saying: I couldn't live without my hands.
Unable to button my shirt for work, having to find and wear slip on shoes, not even being able to move my computer mouse without difficulty. I'm getting frustrated and all the emotions that come from being unable to help myself. Funny how i knew at least that much about myself.
This is going to be a long 10 days. -_-
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
I am short and organizing and the PGR
I haven't really felt the desire to write an update in a week now.
Kelsie and Jonas have taken a trip to Sweeden and will be gone till the end of the month. While it's nice having the place to myself; I'm getting frustrated.
Everything in this apartment is set up for tall people! Kelsie has a good 6 inches on me and Jonas has even more (probably close to a foot) in height. I find myself reaching above the microwave which is above the stove for my cereal. Now about 40% of my diet comes in the form of cereal. So this constant having to get the stool out to reach my cereal...DOESN"T WORK FOR ME!
So it's currently sitting out on the counter. That doesn't particularly bother me, but I know it won't work in the long term. It appears i'm going to have to re-organize the kitchen again before Kelsie gets back. Same goes for the laundry nook. When i have trouble reaching down the heavy bottles of fabric softener....there needs to be a change. What the change is going to be...i'm not sure yet. The wheels in my head are still turning.
Something have noticed, mostly because i used to work for a personal organizer and that's one of her major lessons. Vertical space is not utilized at all in this apartment. It's frustratingly cramped. Looks like i'm making a trip to The Container Store or Storables.
But that will be saved for sunday. Today, friday, i've been invited on a PGR mission. The Patriot Guard Riders are a group of motorcycle riding people i highly admire. They escort the bodies of fallen soldiers from the airport, to the funeral, to the burial sight. Their job is to make sure no soldier is forgotten and alone when they are laid to rest. They have a secondary job to obscure the hateful shouts of vile protesters at these events. Usually they do this with american flags and a bunch of harleys reved up at full throttle with speakers blasting country songs to drown them out. I may have never served in the military, but this is a group that i can't help but admire and respect. I'm honered to be allowed to join them today.
Saturday is painting at the island. It's about time we got those ceilings painted. I hate unfinished partical board.
Kelsie and Jonas have taken a trip to Sweeden and will be gone till the end of the month. While it's nice having the place to myself; I'm getting frustrated.
Everything in this apartment is set up for tall people! Kelsie has a good 6 inches on me and Jonas has even more (probably close to a foot) in height. I find myself reaching above the microwave which is above the stove for my cereal. Now about 40% of my diet comes in the form of cereal. So this constant having to get the stool out to reach my cereal...DOESN"T WORK FOR ME!
So it's currently sitting out on the counter. That doesn't particularly bother me, but I know it won't work in the long term. It appears i'm going to have to re-organize the kitchen again before Kelsie gets back. Same goes for the laundry nook. When i have trouble reaching down the heavy bottles of fabric softener....there needs to be a change. What the change is going to be...i'm not sure yet. The wheels in my head are still turning.
Something have noticed, mostly because i used to work for a personal organizer and that's one of her major lessons. Vertical space is not utilized at all in this apartment. It's frustratingly cramped. Looks like i'm making a trip to The Container Store or Storables.
But that will be saved for sunday. Today, friday, i've been invited on a PGR mission. The Patriot Guard Riders are a group of motorcycle riding people i highly admire. They escort the bodies of fallen soldiers from the airport, to the funeral, to the burial sight. Their job is to make sure no soldier is forgotten and alone when they are laid to rest. They have a secondary job to obscure the hateful shouts of vile protesters at these events. Usually they do this with american flags and a bunch of harleys reved up at full throttle with speakers blasting country songs to drown them out. I may have never served in the military, but this is a group that i can't help but admire and respect. I'm honered to be allowed to join them today.
Saturday is painting at the island. It's about time we got those ceilings painted. I hate unfinished partical board.
Friday, August 14, 2009
When the girly bug bites
I grew up around all boys. I played GI Joe, not dress up. I made forts, not something in an EZbake. I played in the mud and dirt, not house. My barbies were Amazons, not Princesses.
No one would ever have described my childhood self as "Girly". When i grew up, I wanted to be strong, independent, and well....lets face it....not entirely grown up.
However, I learned that A) I feel exactly like the last panel in that comic now and B) it's tough to deny certain impulses.
90% of the time, I can walk through an entire store and not buy a single thing. My wardrobe is modest but still assorted. And most of the assorted-ness comes from what i call "Girly Bug Bites"
It's a brief shopaholic impulse that consumes me to the point where everything is pretty and i simply must have it! Usually only lasts a day or so, but i have been known to drop a couple hundred dollars in that time. That amount usually involves knee high black leather boots. My one true weakness....
Thankfully, my tight-pursed nature usually prevents me from buying things which are exorbitantly priced, or things that i would never actually wear. And even more thankfully...they only bite about 3 to 5 times a year.
At this time; my reaction to a Girly Bug bite is in full effect. Watch out stores.
In other news: I have a puppy for the next week. Prepare for massive puppy picture overload in my next post or two.
No one would ever have described my childhood self as "Girly". When i grew up, I wanted to be strong, independent, and well....lets face it....not entirely grown up.
 |
| From Girls with Slingshots, webcomic |
However, I learned that A) I feel exactly like the last panel in that comic now and B) it's tough to deny certain impulses.
90% of the time, I can walk through an entire store and not buy a single thing. My wardrobe is modest but still assorted. And most of the assorted-ness comes from what i call "Girly Bug Bites"
It's a brief shopaholic impulse that consumes me to the point where everything is pretty and i simply must have it! Usually only lasts a day or so, but i have been known to drop a couple hundred dollars in that time. That amount usually involves knee high black leather boots. My one true weakness....
Thankfully, my tight-pursed nature usually prevents me from buying things which are exorbitantly priced, or things that i would never actually wear. And even more thankfully...they only bite about 3 to 5 times a year.
At this time; my reaction to a Girly Bug bite is in full effect. Watch out stores.
In other news: I have a puppy for the next week. Prepare for massive puppy picture overload in my next post or two.
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