XLarge is the New Small
Okay, I'm overweight. My skinny days have long since disappeared. Actually, they never existed. When I was thinner, I still had a round tummy and curves. Now, I have the curves and the round tummy, but extra curves have shown up where they needn't have, and my tummy is rounder. Call me stout.
My body is similar to many others in Spain. Yes, there are thin women, too. My daughter is testimony to that. There are also obese women that give the impression that if they fall they'll just roll away. The clothing industry, however, only sees rail-thin women that have been starving themselves for five weeks just to fit into their clothes. Sizes are a mystery bigger than that of the Immaculate Conception. Trying to buy some shorts once, I went from store to store. I tried on sizes that ranged from 42 to 54. I have no idea which one was my true size. I finally settled on the shorts in the store that labelled them as a 42 (14 American). So call me vain.
There have been instances in which I have tried on a t-shirt with the size XXL, thinking it will definitely fit. I take it to the fitting room and discover that it won't go below my shoulders without popping some stitches. There have been shopping days in which I felt like growling at the shop assistant monitoring the entrance to the fitting rooms when she asked me if the clothes was to my liking. I've never done so - yet. My daughter has also had close encounters of the strange sizes. Normally she takes an S, sometimes an XS. Again, depending on the store. She once visited a store where she had been before and had bought a size S to find that she couldn't fit into it anymore. The store had upgraded her size to an M. She had not moved an inch on the scale.
About nine years ago, alarmed with the increasing cases of anorexia and bulimia, the government decided to do a measurement of women to find the average body. The average woman was found to measure 1 meter 67 centimeters and weigh around 57 kilos. Efforts were made to ensure that the companies dedicated to clothing us would take that into consideration and limit the amount of tiny sizes they were throwing at our bodies. Stores were encouraged to carry larger sizes and to have larger mannequins modelling the fetching outfits. Sizes were to be unified, and a 42 was to be a 42 no matter where in Spain a woman was to go shopping. Common sense was finally to be introduced to the clothing industry.
Common sense stayed where it was. Those fetching outfits remained in dolls' sizes and there are some stores where the smallest size will only fit a skinny nine-year-old, not the twenty- or thirty-something audience they aim at. People my size and smaller, even, have to search through the tall grass of clothes that's-size-42-though-it's-really-size-36 to find the occasional blouse or t-shirt that can fit us. And jeans are another story! The fashion is for them to be below the waist. That's fine on someone built like my daughter, with no tummy. On women with tummies it's a horrendous sight and quite uncomfortable. I know of two or three shops where I can find normal jeans. Sometimes they'll even carry a size that fits me. Mostly, though, I am forced to look in plus size shops. A couple or so of these stores gets it that plus size women can be found from adolescence to old age, and that they like different, modern styles. Most, though, cater to grandmotherly types that still wear skirts below the knee, wool tights, sensible shoes, and knitted shawls. I don't think that will ever be my style, even if I make it to great-grandmother.
Spring is on its way. In about a month I should start looking through my warmer weather clothes to see what I need to replace. And begin the odyssey again.
My body is similar to many others in Spain. Yes, there are thin women, too. My daughter is testimony to that. There are also obese women that give the impression that if they fall they'll just roll away. The clothing industry, however, only sees rail-thin women that have been starving themselves for five weeks just to fit into their clothes. Sizes are a mystery bigger than that of the Immaculate Conception. Trying to buy some shorts once, I went from store to store. I tried on sizes that ranged from 42 to 54. I have no idea which one was my true size. I finally settled on the shorts in the store that labelled them as a 42 (14 American). So call me vain.
There have been instances in which I have tried on a t-shirt with the size XXL, thinking it will definitely fit. I take it to the fitting room and discover that it won't go below my shoulders without popping some stitches. There have been shopping days in which I felt like growling at the shop assistant monitoring the entrance to the fitting rooms when she asked me if the clothes was to my liking. I've never done so - yet. My daughter has also had close encounters of the strange sizes. Normally she takes an S, sometimes an XS. Again, depending on the store. She once visited a store where she had been before and had bought a size S to find that she couldn't fit into it anymore. The store had upgraded her size to an M. She had not moved an inch on the scale.
About nine years ago, alarmed with the increasing cases of anorexia and bulimia, the government decided to do a measurement of women to find the average body. The average woman was found to measure 1 meter 67 centimeters and weigh around 57 kilos. Efforts were made to ensure that the companies dedicated to clothing us would take that into consideration and limit the amount of tiny sizes they were throwing at our bodies. Stores were encouraged to carry larger sizes and to have larger mannequins modelling the fetching outfits. Sizes were to be unified, and a 42 was to be a 42 no matter where in Spain a woman was to go shopping. Common sense was finally to be introduced to the clothing industry.
Common sense stayed where it was. Those fetching outfits remained in dolls' sizes and there are some stores where the smallest size will only fit a skinny nine-year-old, not the twenty- or thirty-something audience they aim at. People my size and smaller, even, have to search through the tall grass of clothes that's-size-42-though-it's-really-size-36 to find the occasional blouse or t-shirt that can fit us. And jeans are another story! The fashion is for them to be below the waist. That's fine on someone built like my daughter, with no tummy. On women with tummies it's a horrendous sight and quite uncomfortable. I know of two or three shops where I can find normal jeans. Sometimes they'll even carry a size that fits me. Mostly, though, I am forced to look in plus size shops. A couple or so of these stores gets it that plus size women can be found from adolescence to old age, and that they like different, modern styles. Most, though, cater to grandmotherly types that still wear skirts below the knee, wool tights, sensible shoes, and knitted shawls. I don't think that will ever be my style, even if I make it to great-grandmother.
Spring is on its way. In about a month I should start looking through my warmer weather clothes to see what I need to replace. And begin the odyssey again.
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