No more rum for me....
"Those are some sexy knickers."
This basically describes my whole day. I don't know how, but it does. It was spoken by my sister, at 11 something (i was supposed be be asleep, assholes) this morning, this very early morning, while we were driving on a backroad on the way to the mall, and Jami sees a construction worker.
Nevermind that the bright orange striped things on his legs are britches, NOT knickers. Those were some DAMN sexy knickers, if i do say so myself.
But I digress. Not only was I unfortunate enough to be AWAKE today, I was further dragged (kicking and screaming, mind you) into the fiery pit of burning HELL known as clothes shopping. Which basically turned out as it always does, and always HAS, for the past 4,562 (read: 17) years of my life.
Me = NO clothes because my body is distorted into some ugly, UNSPEAKABLY GROTESQUE (read: normal) shape that is so VEHEMENTLY HATED by clothing designers ALL ACROSS AMERICA that I am *between* sizes, and by Heaven, hell, and everything in between, it is a wonder i find _ANYTHING_ to wear at all!
Jami = Omg i'm so cute just like a fairy and i'm so tiny i can just fit into - OH! *grabs a size -5 off the shelf and puts it on* ANYTHING i want!!! :D *sparklesparkleshinesparkle*
No, I assure you, you aren't sensing any resentment here at all.
Actually, I <3 my sister alot, it's not her fault that the juniors' clothing industry is run by spiteful Britney-loving bitches ^_^
Which leads me to a rant: WHY IN THE F'ING F DON'T GIRLS' JEANS RUN IN WAIST- LEG MEASURMENTS LIKE GUYS' JEANS??!!?!@
Riddle me this, Batman, you tight-wearing lamer. Don't you realize how EASY it is to put everything in inches??? DO YOU??? Let me enlighten you.
Inches don't change.
In random store = 32x35 means 32x35. These jeans fit. I buy.
In another random store = 32x35 means 32x35. I don't need to try on. I buy. It fits.
Arbitrary random odd numbers CHANGE.
In random store = Let's see, I wear size 11. They fit. I buy.
In another random store = I wear size 11.....WHAT THE FLYING F THESE 11's DON'T FIT!!! *after much frustration, finds a pair that fits* 11 = 13.
In another random store = SAME THING. But this time, 11 = 9.
So you see. It is MUCH MUCH (read: MUCH) MUCH easier to do waist-leg measurements. But NOOOOOOOOO! Our ghey-assed, sexually-obsessed, beauty-obsessed, MAKING WOMEN FIT INTO A SET PATTERN-obsessed culture says,
"Ooooh no fag0rts WE WILLZ DO ITZ LIEK 2 diffarant WAYZ just two PIESS JOOZ 0fF@!#13#!# Now GO TAEK A BUST-ENHANCEMENT PILL!!#~###~##"
Don't you realize??? Women look better in clothes that FIT.
Example: Do *you* want to see an average, normal-looking 150 lb girl (like myself, for example) walking around in jeans made for a 90 lb girl and when she moves or bends over, PUSHED UP FAT ROLLS FROM SUPER TIGHT JEANS GO EVERYWHERE?!?#!#
Please, oh please, say no.
Then, take this post, physically, to your nearest fashion industry insider.
Oh wait, the door to his house is size zero.
This basically describes my whole day. I don't know how, but it does. It was spoken by my sister, at 11 something (i was supposed be be asleep, assholes) this morning, this very early morning, while we were driving on a backroad on the way to the mall, and Jami sees a construction worker.
Nevermind that the bright orange striped things on his legs are britches, NOT knickers. Those were some DAMN sexy knickers, if i do say so myself.
But I digress. Not only was I unfortunate enough to be AWAKE today, I was further dragged (kicking and screaming, mind you) into the fiery pit of burning HELL known as clothes shopping. Which basically turned out as it always does, and always HAS, for the past 4,562 (read: 17) years of my life.
Me = NO clothes because my body is distorted into some ugly, UNSPEAKABLY GROTESQUE (read: normal) shape that is so VEHEMENTLY HATED by clothing designers ALL ACROSS AMERICA that I am *between* sizes, and by Heaven, hell, and everything in between, it is a wonder i find _ANYTHING_ to wear at all!
Jami = Omg i'm so cute just like a fairy and i'm so tiny i can just fit into - OH! *grabs a size -5 off the shelf and puts it on* ANYTHING i want!!! :D *sparklesparkleshinesparkle*
No, I assure you, you aren't sensing any resentment here at all.
Actually, I <3 my sister alot, it's not her fault that the juniors' clothing industry is run by spiteful Britney-loving bitches ^_^
Which leads me to a rant: WHY IN THE F'ING F DON'T GIRLS' JEANS RUN IN WAIST- LEG MEASURMENTS LIKE GUYS' JEANS??!!?!@
Riddle me this, Batman, you tight-wearing lamer. Don't you realize how EASY it is to put everything in inches??? DO YOU??? Let me enlighten you.
Inches don't change.
In random store = 32x35 means 32x35. These jeans fit. I buy.
In another random store = 32x35 means 32x35. I don't need to try on. I buy. It fits.
Arbitrary random odd numbers CHANGE.
In random store = Let's see, I wear size 11. They fit. I buy.
In another random store = I wear size 11.....WHAT THE FLYING F THESE 11's DON'T FIT!!! *after much frustration, finds a pair that fits* 11 = 13.
In another random store = SAME THING. But this time, 11 = 9.
So you see. It is MUCH MUCH (read: MUCH) MUCH easier to do waist-leg measurements. But NOOOOOOOOO! Our ghey-assed, sexually-obsessed, beauty-obsessed, MAKING WOMEN FIT INTO A SET PATTERN-obsessed culture says,
"Ooooh no fag0rts WE WILLZ DO ITZ LIEK 2 diffarant WAYZ just two PIESS JOOZ 0fF@!#13#!# Now GO TAEK A BUST-ENHANCEMENT PILL!!#~###~##"
Don't you realize??? Women look better in clothes that FIT.
Example: Do *you* want to see an average, normal-looking 150 lb girl (like myself, for example) walking around in jeans made for a 90 lb girl and when she moves or bends over, PUSHED UP FAT ROLLS FROM SUPER TIGHT JEANS GO EVERYWHERE?!?#!#
Please, oh please, say no.
Then, take this post, physically, to your nearest fashion industry insider.
Oh wait, the door to his house is size zero.