battling the arse-fascists
that's right, I am. I've been clothes shopping for about three weeks straight now, trying to find a few pairs of jeans.
the problem I have, having lost nearly 2 stone in weight (go me!) is that none of my clothes fit now. so my size 14 jeans keep dragging in the muck and getting all wet and falling off my now less vast backside. putting this into context, even my size 12 jeans are too big, so logically I should be a size 10. apparently not so. they must have re-sized everything since I bought them. in Next I tried a pair of 10s on to find they wouldn't go past my knee. so I tried the bigger ones on. the 12 wouldn't go above my thighs and even the 14s were too tight. now ordinarily I really don't care what number is on my label as long as I look good. I DO care though, that after loosing so much weight I have to buy clothes BIGGER than I did before. hence the arse-fascism. I invented this lovely term a little too loudly when exiting the changing rooms and got a weird look from the sales assistant. a cheeky bonus.
I suspect it's all a huge ploy by the fashion industry to make us all think we're all much fatter than we are and therefore need to lose weight to fit into their ridiculous ideals. I refuse to hand over money to anyone who tells me I'm fat and would probably look really good if only I fit into their 'size 10'.
I finally conceded to buying a pair of size 12s in Dorothy Perkins because frankly I was desperate. And they do look rather good, if very dykey. I shall have to wear them with a nice girly top or something. Damn stereotypes.
Talking of which, my youngest sisters friend seems to fancy me. I can't stand the poor lad. He's nice enough but he's a kinda in your face attention whore, 'look at me aren't I so much better than everyone' type. Kinda reminds me of my first boyfriend actually, what a success that was.
the problem I have, having lost nearly 2 stone in weight (go me!) is that none of my clothes fit now. so my size 14 jeans keep dragging in the muck and getting all wet and falling off my now less vast backside. putting this into context, even my size 12 jeans are too big, so logically I should be a size 10. apparently not so. they must have re-sized everything since I bought them. in Next I tried a pair of 10s on to find they wouldn't go past my knee. so I tried the bigger ones on. the 12 wouldn't go above my thighs and even the 14s were too tight. now ordinarily I really don't care what number is on my label as long as I look good. I DO care though, that after loosing so much weight I have to buy clothes BIGGER than I did before. hence the arse-fascism. I invented this lovely term a little too loudly when exiting the changing rooms and got a weird look from the sales assistant. a cheeky bonus.
I suspect it's all a huge ploy by the fashion industry to make us all think we're all much fatter than we are and therefore need to lose weight to fit into their ridiculous ideals. I refuse to hand over money to anyone who tells me I'm fat and would probably look really good if only I fit into their 'size 10'.
I finally conceded to buying a pair of size 12s in Dorothy Perkins because frankly I was desperate. And they do look rather good, if very dykey. I shall have to wear them with a nice girly top or something. Damn stereotypes.
Talking of which, my youngest sisters friend seems to fancy me. I can't stand the poor lad. He's nice enough but he's a kinda in your face attention whore, 'look at me aren't I so much better than everyone' type. Kinda reminds me of my first boyfriend actually, what a success that was.