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Shopping
I have a new pair of sandals. They fit.
It took me a year to find this pair of sandals. A whole godsbedamned year.
Here follows my tale of conquest at a Wal-Mart in Huntsville:
So, it was me,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catchild, louisadkins and Phooka. Catchild and Louis took Phooka to get some last-minute stuff for camp for the girls. I went to try on sandals. Walking into the shoe section, I felt hope start to rise. The had lots of Earth-Shoes, which are usually good on my feet, and they also had a whole bunch of them sized wide. My feet, y'see are wide. And short. So, I felt hopeful that maybe I would finally find a pair of sandals that looked nice and actually fit my feet. Especially since the sandals that I had on were splitting and the velcro had lost most of its grab.
So, with a cheerful heart, I started trying sandals on.
A note to the shoe industry: Wide means wide, okay? It does not mean "standard". You non-wide shoes should fall into that category. That, or drop all pretense and just label that category "Cinderella" and have fucking done with it all ready.
Needless to say, I was unable to find a wide sandal that fit. Including the size 10 pair that I tried on in desperation. A thought formed in my mind. I went back to the 6 1/2 aisle, and found the White Stag brand. I tried a pair of their "wide" sandals. Nope, no go. I then hauled out their butt-ugly, brownish-greyish, frumpy slippers in the same size category. Fit my feet perfectly.
At this point, the other three found me. I almost threw the slippers I was holding at Louis's head, for the simple reason that I had fucking had enough of not being able to find shoes that both fit me and looked at least nice.
I had a minor breakdown in the shoe department of Wal-Mart. A rant on the fashion industry punishing anyone who did not fit their standards of beauty by refusing to make anything that looks good that will fit anyone else ensued. At moderate volume. I was later informed that I frightened a woman with a toddler who was starting to enter the aisle that I was in. "No, Mommy needs size 8 1/2."
I was angry, upset, and frustrated. A year's worth of pent up fury exploded. I had not realized until today just how much I loathe the fashion industry. Catchild and Louis were very understanding, and helped me search through shoe boxes while I vented. Catchild saved the day by grabbing a pair of sandals that were laced. Standard size, yes, but if I pulled the laces all the way out, put my foot in, and then relaced them, they fit.
I blessed her name. At moderate volume. I almost offered to have her children, except that we don't have the room or the money for another kid, and Louis already has first dibs on my womb.
I am still tired of how very difficult it is to find clothes that fit me properly and don't look hideous. Most of my shopping gets done at Goodwill, just because I can always find something there that looks nice on me and fits. I'm heavier that what the fashion industry thinks is attractive, yes. I'm sick of them punishing me for it by refusing to make nice clothes in my size. Weight loss won't help all that much, either. I have broad shoulders, wide hips, and a decent-sized chest. My shoulders and hips are bone structure. Losing weight might make them somewhat smaller, but it wouldn't change them a lot. I have no clue how much weight loss would affect my breasts. Especially since I carry most of my weight on my thighs and my butt.
I am sick and tired of being told that weight loss will solve all of mmy problems. No, it won't. I am healthier at 185 than I was at 125. A lot healthier. I need to keep working on my endurance, and try to eat more balanced.
But I am not giving up the muscle and the physical strength in my legs that came with the weight gain. My back is shitty; I have trouble lifting stuff, but I leveraged a black-belt off of me and clear off of the mat in a self-defense class with my legs alone. Twice. And this was someone who had earned that black-belt, not a McDojo black-belt. I heard him tell the other instructor that he felt sorry for anyone that I got with those legs.
My body is not built for wiry stength. So fuck the fashion industry with Mjolnir, sideways, during a thunderstorm. I'll lose some of the fat, but the muscle stays, and fuck the fact that on my frame, that means bulk. I'll make my own godsdamned clothes if I have to. That, and keep shopping at thrift stores, where they seem to always have something that'll fit.
It took me a year to find this pair of sandals. A whole godsbedamned year.
Here follows my tale of conquest at a Wal-Mart in Huntsville:
So, it was me,
catchild, louisadkins and Phooka. Catchild and Louis took Phooka to get some last-minute stuff for camp for the girls. I went to try on sandals. Walking into the shoe section, I felt hope start to rise. The had lots of Earth-Shoes, which are usually good on my feet, and they also had a whole bunch of them sized wide. My feet, y'see are wide. And short. So, I felt hopeful that maybe I would finally find a pair of sandals that looked nice and actually fit my feet. Especially since the sandals that I had on were splitting and the velcro had lost most of its grab.So, with a cheerful heart, I started trying sandals on.
A note to the shoe industry: Wide means wide, okay? It does not mean "standard". You non-wide shoes should fall into that category. That, or drop all pretense and just label that category "Cinderella" and have fucking done with it all ready.
Needless to say, I was unable to find a wide sandal that fit. Including the size 10 pair that I tried on in desperation. A thought formed in my mind. I went back to the 6 1/2 aisle, and found the White Stag brand. I tried a pair of their "wide" sandals. Nope, no go. I then hauled out their butt-ugly, brownish-greyish, frumpy slippers in the same size category. Fit my feet perfectly.
At this point, the other three found me. I almost threw the slippers I was holding at Louis's head, for the simple reason that I had fucking had enough of not being able to find shoes that both fit me and looked at least nice.
I had a minor breakdown in the shoe department of Wal-Mart. A rant on the fashion industry punishing anyone who did not fit their standards of beauty by refusing to make anything that looks good that will fit anyone else ensued. At moderate volume. I was later informed that I frightened a woman with a toddler who was starting to enter the aisle that I was in. "No, Mommy needs size 8 1/2."
I was angry, upset, and frustrated. A year's worth of pent up fury exploded. I had not realized until today just how much I loathe the fashion industry. Catchild and Louis were very understanding, and helped me search through shoe boxes while I vented. Catchild saved the day by grabbing a pair of sandals that were laced. Standard size, yes, but if I pulled the laces all the way out, put my foot in, and then relaced them, they fit.
I blessed her name. At moderate volume. I almost offered to have her children, except that we don't have the room or the money for another kid, and Louis already has first dibs on my womb.
I am still tired of how very difficult it is to find clothes that fit me properly and don't look hideous. Most of my shopping gets done at Goodwill, just because I can always find something there that looks nice on me and fits. I'm heavier that what the fashion industry thinks is attractive, yes. I'm sick of them punishing me for it by refusing to make nice clothes in my size. Weight loss won't help all that much, either. I have broad shoulders, wide hips, and a decent-sized chest. My shoulders and hips are bone structure. Losing weight might make them somewhat smaller, but it wouldn't change them a lot. I have no clue how much weight loss would affect my breasts. Especially since I carry most of my weight on my thighs and my butt.
I am sick and tired of being told that weight loss will solve all of mmy problems. No, it won't. I am healthier at 185 than I was at 125. A lot healthier. I need to keep working on my endurance, and try to eat more balanced.
But I am not giving up the muscle and the physical strength in my legs that came with the weight gain. My back is shitty; I have trouble lifting stuff, but I leveraged a black-belt off of me and clear off of the mat in a self-defense class with my legs alone. Twice. And this was someone who had earned that black-belt, not a McDojo black-belt. I heard him tell the other instructor that he felt sorry for anyone that I got with those legs.
My body is not built for wiry stength. So fuck the fashion industry with Mjolnir, sideways, during a thunderstorm. I'll lose some of the fat, but the muscle stays, and fuck the fact that on my frame, that means bulk. I'll make my own godsdamned clothes if I have to. That, and keep shopping at thrift stores, where they seem to always have something that'll fit.
no subject
Love you, dear.
no subject
Most of my shoes are three or four years old. I have to go shopping for new boots sometime soon. I'm not looking forward to it. (Need to get sandals, too. >_<)
I was homeschooled growing up. I spent most of my childhood bare-foot. Needless to say, my feet didn't get molded at an early age into the fucked up bound shape that most women's are. *grumbles*
I have wide shoulders, too... finding shirts can be a pain. I usually have to get a medium rather than a small, and sometimes clothes just don't look right; they hang wrong, because they're baggy where they should be tight and ... mrrrrrrr.