Yesterday, someone commented that they have been fat since childhood and so they hate shopping.
I got fat (”I got” makes it sound like it was a present I got for Christmas or something) when I was 7 years old. My childhood memories are often… sketchy, so I don’t remember being the skinny kid who peeks out of old photos of a much younger me. In effect, I’ve been fat longer than I’ve been dressing myself.
Which means I got to be the kid with the weird, strangely-fitting clothes all through school. The clothes that made me – once the breasts started showing up – look older than I was. The clothes that were not in the least little bit stylish.
Now, my situation was not made any easier by my mother. I love my mother, I really do, quite deeply. But we have not had a good or simple relationship. Our interactions have always been negotiated through the meaning of my fat and our differing… viewpoints on just what it means for me to be fat. Because to my mom? Me being fat means I am going to die alone and unloved and miserable. And probably young. To me, my being fat means that I am fat.
So my mother would promise to buy me nice things if I lost weight. In the meantime I wore whatever fit from where ever it was cheapest.
There were two exceptions to this. The first was in the fifth grade when I went to a(nother) new school. This school was in a much wealthier area and so when we went school shopping, my mother bought me skirts and actual cute outfits. Of course, they were still desperately out of style. But she tried. In this example, class was the important factor. The second, my mother bought me a pair of Levi jeans for Christmas my 10th grade year. The problem was that she had no idea what size I wore. So they were three sizes too small and I never wore them. In this example, I don’t know what motivated her. It’s one of the small efforts that I remind myself of, though, because it helps soothe the sting of some of the rest of what was going on at that time.
Still, I loved shopping. Not shopping for clothes because I got the message that none of them would fit me (even when they would have) loud and clear. But earrings and necklaces and shoes…. Accessories shopping was the best thing ever. I had a ridiculous collection of earrings when I was in high school. *laugh*
I remember really vividly my very first positive shopping experience. It was at Lane Bryant. My dad was coming for a visit and we were going to visit his parents. Mom gave me a budget and sent me to the mall with my aunt (my mom’s youngest sister). I was driving, so I must have been in the 11th grade). My dad’s parents trigger that interest in class that my mother has, which is why she went along with the shopping plan.
My aunt and I went straight to Lane Bryant. I’d been in the store a time or two but I don’t think I owned anything more than a clearance shirt from there, if that. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what size I wore in their clothing. My aunt and a sales clerk rounded up all sorts of things for me to try on.
And then I was in a fitting room, by myself, with heaps of clothes. I was terrified. I hadn’t picked most of it out because I was still unsure that any of it would fit or that I could actually, you know, leave the house dressed like that. But the clerk and my aunt kept bringing me things. And I kept trying it on and coming out of the fitting room and three or four hours later there was a largish stack of clothes that I liked.
I had to trim the stack down to stay within budget, but I wound up with a pair of green jeans that were super soft and somewhere between jade and olive in color. I got some nice, scoop-neck t-shirts. I got two pairs of shorts. I got a vest thingie. I was floored. Clothes that I liked, that fit, and that looked nice. It’s amazing how clearly I remember these clothes, how clearly I remember wearing them after that – especially since I can barely remember anything else that happened in my life until I was, oh, in my late teens/early twenties.
It was a total revelation.
Shopping wasn’t the problem. My attitude – and my mother’s attitude about fat – was the problem. I won’t say I became a shop-a-holic or anything because, quite frankly, I didn’t ever have any money (long story, more mother stuff) so I couldn’t shop. But I tucked that experience away and mulled over it whenever I got the chance to think about clothes. And my mom’s attempted bribery (get clothes for lost weight) lost a lot of its power.
I’ve had incredibly varied experiences with shopping ever since then. It can be a really destructive experience if the mood turns and the clothes suck. But even then, even if I rashly swear off shopping because I’m frustrated in a fitting room somewhere, even then I am back to shopping, back to hunting for clothes that fit and feel good and serve my purposes. Because shopping isn’t the problem.
Shopping would be even easier, of course, if there were more retailers who carried awesome fat person clothes. Right now it is sort of like going on safari. I strap on my pith helmet and swing my machete and carve my way through a jungle of horrible clothing. But finding my prey? It’s so amazingly good.
If you hate shopping, I don’t blame you. A lifetime of discouragement and disappointment is absolutely bound to leave some marks. But I encourage you to give it a try. And to ask yourself what it is that you hate – if it’s the hassle of it (because it IS a hassle) or if it is the dread that you aren’t going to find anything and that it will confirm how horrible your body is. If it’s the first, I believe that you actually hate shopping. That’s cool and I will not expect you to go to the mall with me. *grin* If it’s the second, it’s not shopping you hate, it’s the disappointment and fear of the whole experience. Which is also totally valid. It’s not an unreasonable way to feel. But if you don’t want to feel that way? If you don’t want to feel that way, find a plus-sized retailer near you. Find a sales clerk with whom you get along well. And ask him or her to bring you clothes to try on. Let yourself try on things you never imagined would fit. Play with clothes you can’t afford. Play with clothes you don’t have anywhere to wear. Just play.
Because shopping is the best kind of playing dress up. And we deserve to get in on that kind of fun, too.
11 Comments
I used to dread trying things on, and had since I “woke up” to realize I had ballooned into the body my mind told me I always was ever since I was little. So, admitting I am now a 22/24 or 26/28…?? I couldn’t handle it. But last year I got a job at a Plus Size design house. I was encouraged. I was told I had a beautiful shape. I was told “hey, try this on!” I played in the dressing room, and put things on that I NEVER would have–even when I was a 10/12… I felt sexy?! I felt cute?!
Now, I don’t feel the loathing I’ve felt for years, because I made it fun. I talk to women all day who hate their bodies. But now I can describe myself, and tell them how great I feel in this dress, or that, and sometimes these women call me back in tears because I helped them. I am working on feeling better in this body. Reading this blog, kate hardings, and many others has really been helping. It feels good to be among ‘my people’ here at work, and lurking on blogs. I feel understood, and validated. Thanks for reading this winded response. *sigh*
I wonder how many of us, who are all above a certain age, remember our first “OMG it fits & it’s not a polyester potato sack” shopping experience at Lane Bryant…
It’s a slow process, unlearning the dread of clothes shopping – and my budget + LB’s prices aren’t helping – but little by little it’s happening. I bought a white shirt with gold metallic stripes in spite of the voice in my head saying “you can’t wear that! someone might *see* you!”. Ah, the desire to be invisible. Hard to break.
I’m not the best mall shopping companion, but if I disappear you know you can find me in the bookstore.
I love me some shopping, and am enjoying it more now that I’m not using it as a substitute for getting to eat. And my big discovery, one of that I’ve just made recently? Shopping is WAY more fun when you realize that you can buy things you like even if they don’t make you look thinner. I didn’t know that!! I thought that “flattering” meant “skinnier,” and everyone around me seems to think that, too. But I know now, that “flattering” only has to mean “looks cute to me!”
It’s a complete paradigm shift and one my credit card is not entirely loving!
I had the same experience as a child – my mother and grandmother would promise me nice clothes if I lost weight. I wan’t even noticeably fat until I was about 14 though. They bought me boy’s jeans when I was pre-teen, I don’t think the idea of just buying a smaller *women’s* size instead of making a fuss over the tiny girl’s sizes not fitting occurred to them for whatever reason.
The fashion situation is rather more dire in Australia. I can go to the biggest mall in this city and find a maximum of two plus-size boutiques. One’s a quite pricey designer store, the other’s like a regular chain boutique. OK there’s another store that sells ostensibly larger sizes, but they’re designed for women who wear an 18 because they’re really tall, not fat. Department store selections are appalling and either incredibly ugly or really pricey.
I like shopping for all kinds of other things but clothes would be better if I even had a safari to go on.
La di Da – don’t feel as if you are missing out on too much. There are only two stores in which I can shop at the big mall here. One, if I’m lucky, at the other malls. There’s one mall, quite a nice mall in fact, at which there is not a single store that carries plus size stuff.
That’s why it’s a safari – our prey is elusive and wily!
I have never liked shopping, for BOTH reasons you name, but recently, I overcame (for one trip, anyway) the second.
It was a landmark for me, the last time I went shopping. I tried on 12 pairs of pants, three fit nicely, and I bought those. The ones that looked bad on me just looked bad. I put them away and didn’t criticise myself for the fact that they were cut for someone built differently from me.
I felt so GOOD about myself when I was done. And proud, too, for not feeling bad about my size and shape.
And just so you know, I’m crediting this blog with some of that. This has been a good place to talk about and listen to different aspects of this issue for me.
I live in Germany and have massive problems finding nice clothes that don’t look like something my 90-year-old great-grandma would wear (BTW: I’m 25yo and about a size 20).
Over the years, big German catalogue retailers have extended their stock to plus-sizes and are slowly offering more cute things for big girls, but it’s still not enough. You can instantly tell when you get to the plus-size part of a catalogue: biiig floral prints, everything A-line (I happen to be shaped like an hourglass), and everything about 3x as expensive than the “normal” sizes. And this is still just catalogue; forget trying to find something in a normal store – most size ranges go from about 2 to mayyybe 10/12. So I am basically forced to order clothes online w/ extra shipping charges, the hassle of sending thing back that don’t fit, etc.
As if this weren’t enough, I’m also 5′11 and it seems that all the plus-sized pants are only made for short women,
So shopping is always something I dread, because after going to about two stores I am frustrated and have a major craving for an ice-cream cone.
I’ve always thought that I hate shopping, but I’ve come to realize actually really like it: If I find a store that has clothes that fit and I feel like I have a CHOICE of what fits me the best – I am willing to max out my credit card. The feeling of walking out of the store with bags full of clothes that look good on me is priceless.
What really gets to me is the searching for stores that are “kind” enough to sell larger sizes, having to spend a lot of money for plus sizes and me feeling like an odd freak show attraction at the end of a shopping trip.
I feel like you wrote this one about me. I didn’t get fat until I was in 10th grade, but my mom always treated me like I was fat. I had to buy almost all of my own clothes from the time I was 12 and had a babysitting job. She refused to buy me anything, saying that “I outgrew things too fast”. Yeah…I got taller, went through puberty, duh. Of course there were always the promises of a whole new wardrobe, if I just lost weight, blah blah blah. I distinctly remember going shopping with her for a dress, not too dressy, for a youth group event. At this point I wasn’t fat, but nothing fit me, because I had big boobs. To her this was the same as being fat, and she said “see, nothing fits you because you’re fat. If you weren’t so fat you’d have all these clothes to choose from”. Way to go mom, that’ll work wonders on my self esteem. Shopping for clothes now is so liberating. I try things on that I never would have tried as a teen, or in my early twenties. I try clothes on that fat people shouldn’t wear according to many relatives. I love finding cute, trendy, sexy, clothes that fit my body exactly as it is.
I wonder how many of us, who are all above a certain age, remember our first “OMG it fits & it’s not a polyester potato sack” shopping experience at Lane Bryant…
ME! ME! ME! I know we all feel this way, but I am SO F’ing happy that clothing stores in the US are finally figuring out that women over a size 14 don’t all want to wear tent dresses & moo moos! I swear, I graduated from high school in 1999 and even at that point, there was almost nothing that was honestly cute & stylish for plus size women on the market. LB was it & as mentioned in previous posts, a bit pricey for a high school kid. Still, I do remember the first time I actually bought cute, young looking clothes in a size 18/20 and it was a glorious day!!
I can relate to your mom having bought you a pair of Levi’s that were 3 sizes too small. My mom bought me a pair of pants for xmas last year that were 2 sizes too small. And i’m 32. You’d think after all these years, she’d have a better idea of what size i truly am.
This is my first comment here, but I’ve been reading your blog for about a month, alternately wincing in recognition and pumping my fist in the sheer joy of reading others’ experiences that are so like my own. So, first — thank you for this blog. A million times over, thank you. And thank you to all the (non-troll) commenters, as well.
As for this specific post — this was a wincing-in-recogntion post, definitely. It sounds like we have the same mother, unfortunately. “Nice clothes” were always dangled as the incentive to lose weight (I wasn’t fat as an adolescent; I was just built very differently than my tall, ectomorph mother).
My grandmother was always fat, and she dressed almost exclusively in smocks from Lane Bryant. This was the 1970s and early 80s, before Lane Bryant became stylish. (At least, that’s how I remember it — in the 1970s, walking into Lane Bryant at the mall was walking into a sea of smocks and polyester pants. Is that right? Does anyone else remember that?)
Because of that, my mom still associates “Lane Bryant” with smocks that barely snap around unrestrained girth. And, of course, she associates Lane Bryant with FAT.
Some of my favorite pieces of clothing are from Lane Bryant. They fit well, look great, and are comfortable, which makes me comfortable in my own skin, and that attitude makes me (I think) look more attractive.
The first time my mom commented on how nice I looked, and asked me where I had bought a particular shirt/dress/whatever, and I answered “Lane Bryant,” I swear to you that she recoiled. Physically.
“Lane Bryant?!? But that’s a FAT store! You shouldn’t shop THERE!”
Hand to god, that was her response. Instead of asking her where else I could shop to find clothes that would fit (her response would have been “Lose weight and go to ‘regular’ stores,”), I just told her I liked it, and changed the subject.
I have never, since that day, told her where I buy my clothes.