Size Vanity

2, 4, 6, 8 — What do we appreciate?

For the first time in what felt like forever, I ventured out of my norm shopping venues (TJ Maxx, Century 21, my roommate’s closet )and headed uptown to the mecca of NYC shopping — 5th Avenue. In an attempt to tap into my trendier side, I made my way to the House of Zara. Upon entering, my eyes darted fervently around, soaking in all the fantastic cheap chic finds. In no time at all I had meandered my way around the floor, stacked my arms to the brim and lassoed a dressing room. Needless to say, I was super excited to play dress up.

I grabbed this adorable long sleeved cream crop top from my heaping pile and proceeded to try it on. Humph. I could barely get it over my head. “Interesting,” I thought, “I guess I’ll have to go up a size.” Not thinking too much of it I moved on to the next article of clothing: a pair of printed trousers. I could barely zip them. And that’s when the concern started to settle in. What the heck…wasn’t I supposed to thin out on thisWhole30, not GAIN weight?! I shook the negativity from my mind and decided to try on another top. I can usually wear a small (result of having a small frame and lack of endowments), so I thought, “Don’t freak out just yet. I definitely will fit in a small.” Needless to say, I started to panic when third time’s the charm became third time’s the clothes-are-too-tight epic fail. I immediately popped my head out of the dressing room and asked my stylist (aka fashionable friend) to grab me the size up in the items I tried on. Like the perfect shopping partner, without judgment or questioning, she came back and I proceeded with the ritual again. And history repeated — the clothes were all too small.

Well, I about had a meltdown in the dressing room right then and there. How could I be an XL in a shirt? And I know I have a bum, but really — none of their pants fit me. Even the dresses were hugging me in ALL the wrong places. Who do they make these clothes for anyways? Yeah I get you Europeans are tiny, but I’m a relatively slender person — who are you selling these to? To be honest — I was incredibly distraught over the sizes I had to try on. My size vanity really messed with my head. And even though I ended up finding a few pieces by the end of my trip, I carried around this feeling of shame for the rest of the day.

It really wasn’t until the next day that I started to decompress and fully comprehend that:

A) I’m not fat

B) Clothing size actually does not matter…at ALL…so get over it. The last time I checked, no one is peeking at the number on my pants tag — besides my laundry guy, and what does he care?

C) Fit is where it’s at and let’s be honest, Zara is able to produce loads of knock-off designer duds because they do not focus on fit quality

D) Most retailers lie to us anyways about our true sizes by playing into our size vanity — adding extra fabric without upping the size number

E) The size of your goodness, your love for others and your appreciation for the body God has gifted you are among the things that actually DO matter

Okay I knew all of this already, but sometimes girl hormones and the lies culture speaks as truth befuddles my judgment. Size doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t define us. And furthermore, we should not feel ashamed or downtrodden because we don’t fit into xyz piece of clothing. Letting the letters “XL” ruin your day is actually pretty ridiculous and an utter waste of time and energy. It’s a real “first world problem” that is frankly disgustingly vain and superficial. So the next time you’re in the dressing room and fall victim to the Size Devil, remember that you are worthy, you are loved and you are Beyoncelishiously fine…don’t let those other thoughts occupy your mind for one second more!