(But wait, we’ll see “T” again soon, with “V”…think about it…)
U is for Underwear.
Yup. This is happening. I need to get something off my chest. (Pun not intended, only happily stumbled upon.)
Dear Victoria’s Secret:
The jig is up. Yes, your body products smell lovely; your fabrics are bright and pretty, and your bras are the best. Hands down. The ayes have it. (And the eyes, for that matter…My eyes are up here. Just kidding. I have never had to say that.)
But…I have a little bitty problem with your sizing. Your sizing is little bitty.
Something is amiss if I wear a medium at an adult women’s clothing store (which has to go through XXS, XS and S before it gets to M & me.) Am I really 3 full sizes larger than your smallest customers? I could accept a “yes,” i.f.f. said customer is a second grader. (Oh for sure, I just made a trig reference in a letter to the bra store. Soak it up, fellas.)
Just c’mon, VS! Live in the now and bump up to number-based sizes at least. That way our undies could match our jeans and we could all go home happy. And curvier ladies won’t have to be, what, 4XL?
I mean, let’s compare me with Joanie from Mad Men. (But not for too long, of course. Skinny girls need love, too.) She’s curvy and gorgeous and sexy and all the things that you would claim to represent…but I can’t imagine what size she is if I’m a Medium. I AM A MEDIUM.
Maybe I’m wrong and have a misperception of my body type in relation to others, but I do not think that is the case. I’m pretty sure that you (just about the only place where it’s socially acceptable to look at boobs in public without age restrictions or admission fees…) are in the wrong here.
You’re part of a larger problem that is not at all new, but is definitely exacerbated by social media: body image obsession in young women and unrealistic ideals in culture and advertising. (Oh, we’re going there, VS. No you don’t get to leave. Sit down.)
Pinterest (this social bookmarking site where people share images of food, fashion, art, culture, crafts, photography…just go check it out. It’s great.) is my new favorite place to hang out online. But sometimes I’m horrified by the pro-workout, pro-thin propaganda that people post as “inspiration” for losing weight. Remember Kate Moss? Poster girl for The Cocaine Diet? I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen cutesy reworkings of her quote: “Nothing Tastes as Good as Skinny Feels.”
I can name five things right now that prove this false. Ready, go:
2) BBQ in Memphis (I said it!)
3) Beer + a hot dog (maybe some nachos) at a baseball game
4) INDIAN FOOOOOOD
5) Salt & Vinegar chips taste better than skinny feels, are you kiddin’ me?! That’s what’s so WRONG about them.
Stop telling us we need to be cocaine-addict thin to be pretty, everybody. Stop it.
I have never had a major problem with weight, but I still know that I feel better when I look better, it’s true. But I hope that’s not the defining quality of my life, or my happiness, or even the overall picture of my attractiveness. Buttoning jeans without the aid of acrobatic moves is a nice feeling, granted, but there are so many more sure and substantive ways to feel nice. Running is one. Eating gelato is another. I like doing both things, and I feel okay about it.
Can the doing-crunches-obsessed and the Crunchwrap-Supreme-enthusiasts meet me somewhere in the middle?
(The middle. Huh. Medium. Maybe you have it right after all, VS…)
Anyway, thanks for the lace top hiphugger. It’s a miracle of modern engineering.