Some people like to shop for clothes. Some don't. I fall in the second category. Even with all I've leaned from Stacy and Clinton about looking for longer shirts and straight legged jeans, it's still a chore. Actually, it's worse than a chore because most of the time I can't actually complete it and check it off the list. I don't think anyone actually sells the clothes that should fit me anyway.
Case in point:
Last Saturday night was our annual small group Christmas party, a dressy dinner event with our closest friends. I've worn the same skirt for the past three years because it fits well and it's a favorite. I bought it one December night in a race to find something to wear to this same party. Still, I thought it might be nice to have something different to wear this year. Plus I desperately needed new dress shoes - my old ones cracked across the bottom.
At the first store, which is where I had purchased the skirt so many years ago, I went in with great expectations. On my first pass through the misses section, nothing stood out particularly. So I started over, looking more carefully and widening my search qualifications. I went to the dressing room with a blue and white dress, a brown skirt, a very nice white blouse, and a red sweater.
I nearly got trapped in the dress. I couldn't figure out its system of zippers and belts. Once I had it on, the zipper, which went from hip to arm pit, wouldn't zip. That left my Carrie-fluff hanging out in the open. Additionally, since the belt wouldn't open, it was cinched tight around my waist... making everything below bulge out like an overstuffed pillow. Getting the dress off wasn't any easier than getting it on. Five minutes later I was able to move on the brown skirt and white shirt.
The skirt was made of a material that stuck to my every curve. No thanks. The white blouse looked so stylish on the hanger...but then the hanger isn't nursing. My, shall we say 'enhanced chest' strained the top buttons in such a way as to leave a gap for cleavage viewing and one for bra viewing. Ugh. So off with the blouse and the brown skirt.
The red sweater didn't fit either, so with deep disappointment I began to pull my jeans back on. I slid my feet into my boots and picked up the teal sweater I'd worn. As I pulled it over my head, a flash of skin along the arm reflected in the mirror. I raised my hand and discovered a hole. And another. And another. Four holes or runs down one arm, two on the other. Additionally, the sweater had worn particularly thin under the arms. Yikes! How had I missed that getting dressed?
Feeling pretty defeated, I decided to head back to the shoes. Success! Not only did I find shoes, but I discovered a bunch of newfangled hose options, like toe less hose that hook over your big toe and black footies so you don't have to wear hose at all! (Clearly I don't get out much.)
The other stores I tried that night, weren't much better. As I looked through a rack marked Large, I found a beautiful green shirt with the same ribbing my black skirt has on it. Excitedly I pulled it out and checked the tag. 8. Since when did 8 become a Large?! I found three more of those shirts in the Large section. All were size 8. I decided to call it a night when I pulled out a pretty red blouse....and it was marked -3. What on earth is size MINUS THREE?
It was, unfortunately, a pretty typical shopping experience, which is why I do not enjoy shopping for clothes. (Sigh.) I wore the same skirt to the party. Thankfully I do love that skirt.