image courtesy of Franco Folini
Last week, Kelly sent me this article on The Hairpin, and I about fell over. Lindsay Miller writes of her evolving relationship with her “Breasts That Can Be Seen From Orbit,” and it seems almost 200 commenters agree with me that her journey makes a pretty good stand-in for ours.
It seems like most of us have something about ourselves that makes us different … and that we kinda hate. Here’s a brief selection of scourged body parts I’ve heard about since starting work on Wear the Shift: knees, legs, ankles (actually, “cankles”), arms, shoulders, tummy, butt, thighs. Pretty exhaustive list — anyone hate their thumbs?
This makes me sad. We are entirely too critical of ourselves.
As the years unfold and the wisdom builds, Lindsay goes from being weirded out by her breasts to being proud and, well, attached to them: “I’ve realized that my breasts are a huge (I’m sorry) part of my self-image … My breasts are kind of like this awesome visual metaphor for my personality: too big, too sexual, taking up too much space.”
One critical moment in her story takes place in a dressing room while shopping for a dress to wear to her best friend’s wedding. Growing weary of her mother’s criticisms and offers of paid-for breast reduction, she snaps: “Can we please stop talking about fixing me? The dress doesn’t fit! That’s not my fault!”
This, my friends, is the way we all need to think. Because, I bet Lindsay was pretty cute when she tried on her dress and everyone took issue with her for not fitting in it. And I was still cute that time I broke down in tears trying on dozens of pairs of horrifying jeans at Target. And you were cute, too, even when you found yourself slipping down the body shame spiral in that awful, terrible dressing room.
We are all pretty cute, especially when we wear comfy clothes that fit us well. This is why Wear the Shift exists!
(And also why, when you try on something at a store and it is ghastly, you must immediately move on. Like online dating, trying on clothes is more a series of short experiments than anything fraught or meaningful. Department store fashion is not something to take personally … there’s nothing personable about it. Be a clothes-trying-on robot, and move forward without regrets or second thoughts.)
Returning to Lindsay, when she gets to the advice-y wrap up I nod slowly and thoughtfully, then go all <3s in my eyes:
“Don’t bother dressing to create an optical illusion that your body is shaped differently than it is. It won’t work, and it’s boring. Do you.”
Damn straight, on both points. It IS boring, and it DOESN’T work. Putting a big black belt across my tummy doesn’t magically give me a tiny waist. All it does is give me a sweaty tummy and extra bulges beyond the ones I already have. Blerg!
I am done walking around uncomfortable in my clothes just because everyone’s supposed to look one particular way or be one particular shape. I have no time for it! I got these gams to rock!
Anyway … what do you think? How do you handle body image craziness when shopping? Leave a comment and tell us how you deal with the emotions that come up in the dressing room.
{ 5 comments }
SING IT! Right now, my major struggle/frustration stems from the fact that I am wearing a size 16, and most department stores simply do not carry clothes in size 16 outside of the “women’s” section. First, calling the larger sizes “women’s” sizes is pretty gross and does very little to hide the fact that this section is almost always tucked away in a corner of the store and usually pretty poorly arranged. Second, just because I’m generously proportioned doesn’t mean I want to wear ugly clothes. I still would like to look cute and fashionable (when the mood strikes)!
So, since most stores either ignore women of my size (and honestly, I am not large. I am 5’8″ and when I tell people what I actually weigh, they wonder where I put it all, so I carry it well) or relegate them to the Shame Corner in case their size is contagious to the thin ladies, I tend to shop only when I *have* to. And even then, I’m probably at Old Navy, because their clothes are cute [enough], they fit me relatively well, and I don’t need to try anything on, usually. That’s how *I* deal with shopping/dressing-room rage. Is my wardrobe boring and unimaginative? Oh, God. Yes. Absolutely. But that’s a fair trade-off for not having to get all stabby-killy when all I want is a cute top to go with these jeans.
Rachel — “relegate them to the Shame Corner in case their size is contagious to the thin ladies” — so effin funny!
I totally feel you, though. I have bounced around between size 12 and size 22 throughout my adult life, and none of that shopping was a blast (except for 2 notable exceptions: Lee Lee’s Valise, and Re-Dress NYC, both in Brooklyn). The revelation was that, even when I got down into “skinny” sizes, shit still didn’t fit right! I thought once I crossed over that magical threshhold beyond which I could shop at “regular” stores, everything would be okay. Sadly, not true.
Always a good idea not to get all stabby-killy when shopping, if one can avoid it.
I think I may print both of these out & carry them in my wallet or maybe just save them on my phone. I dunno. Maybe start a shellaq campaign & post them in dressing rooms everywhere?
PS Shift arrived. Along with crazy mad happiness. Pictures will follow soon!
Yay Beth! The USPS finally came through! Can’t wait to see you rocking your Punk as Heck!
You know, it’s actually a really good idea to have something on hand at all times to remind us that we’re still cute no matter what horrors we face in the Cave of Trying Shit On. Noodling, noodling …
I followed a web trail to your site (I blog about body image and sew almost all of my own clothes) and LOVE your business idea! Since we all come in such a glorious range of shapes, it’s so hard to find anything off-the-rack that really fits in standard sizes. I handle shopping craziness by going alone, wearing my fav undies (nothing is sadder than looking at your granny panties in a harshly lit dressing room! ) and trying to remember to pay myself 2 compliments every time I say or think something negative about myself.
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