Small, Medium and Large

Want to feel good about yourself? Bring my daughter along when you go shopping for new clothes.

I cannot be the only one who unconsciously shudders when she hears that phrase, "shopping for new clothes."

My problem is I still think I am a size 6 when I go shopping. I pick out the appropriately sized clothing when they are, well, APPROPRIATELY SIZED and not some generic Small, Medium or Large. If it has a number on it, I promise you, I am picking the correct number. But for some reason, some women's stores still see fit to use the Small, Medium, or Large sizing method. So MY problem is quite actually the STORES' problem, but they haven't responded to my indignant stares as of yet.

I digress.

There are few things more pathetic than a 38 year old woman who is in a dressing room, holding back tears because "oh no! My thighs are dimply and larger than they were pre-children! Boo-hoo! I don't look like an athletic 23 year old because (SHOCKER) I am neither 23 nor athletic!"

I am not proud to say that I was that misty-eyed-38-year-old-woman recently. On a whim of a shopping trip with Patrick and Corinne, I said "I need a bathing suit." Patrick, being the man that he is said, "You sure do! Buy one! Buy two! You deserve it!" and promptly took Corinne off to small appliances to find an electrical can opener*.

I actually had to take a deep breath before I went into the dressing room. I may have taken several deep breaths, to be honest. I mean, the lights. The mirrors. The inappropriately-sized Small, Medium, and Large. (shudders) AND, to top it all off, my husband had stolen my finder of different bathing suit sizes! That meant that when I tried on the promising halter-top one piece with shirring on the waist (shirring is your friend after 3 children), I had no one around to rescue me and find it in something other than the inappropriate size I had chosen. That meant that I could either get completely dressed again (including an acrobatic dance to don my 21 year old Converse shoes that are tricky to get on) and SEE if I could find it in a larger size (sob) or that I could simply sit down in the Target dressing room and tweet about how pathetic I was.

I tweeted.

It was truly pathetic.

I can't be rude to sales people, so I made sure to hang up all of those stupidly-sized suits; I ran so fast from Target that I probably burned off enough calories to fit into the smaller suits. (Wouldn't that be fantastic?)

And then we went to Kohl's instead and I held onto that size-finder-child while Patrick wandered off to look for a men's bathing suit since Summer is a-coming!

If ever you need someone to shop with, my 8 year old is the person to take along. She's honest but sweet and says things like "This is a fun pattern!" and  "That looks so cute on you!" even though your curves have taken on a life of their own in the past few years.

We knocked that store apart. She helped me find not only a bathing suit (with shirring!) but also 2 pairs of shorts and a sundress. It was still painful, but way less tempting to cry when there is an impressionable 2nd grader just outside the door. Not wanting to pass along my own body issues, I did my best to spin the negative comments in my head into something she hopefully won't translate into "my mom thinks she's fat." (FYI, I don't think I'm fat. I just think I'm an out of shape 38 year old woman. My size and shape are fine-I just wish I was a little less....soft).

Patrick returned just as we were finishing up my selections. I was still bummed so he cheered me up with Oberweis ice cream. Makes perfect sense if you think about it.