Usually, when I post on a Friday, I participate in some sort of link up.
I love linkups. They're fun, and I generally find at least one new blog to follow.
As I sat at my computer starting to write today's post (because let's face it, Fridays are when I most regularly post something, thanks to those linkups), I just wasn't feeling a Friday's Letter post, or anything like that.
This past week has been a bit of one for soul searching for me, in a lot of ways that don't even make sense. Although, it all spins back down to the same thing...an issue that probably lies heavily on the hearts of many women.
When you really think about it, it's such an arbitrary thing. Weight is simply a measure of the Earth's gravitational pull on mass.
Why should it matter if I "weigh" 140 pounds or 240pounds?
Because the clothes I like don't fit??
Like, seriously and truly upset. Not at Rachel, but at that stupid StitchFix place.
And then I started thinking about all the clothing stores I've had to not purchase from, because nothing fit me properly (or nothing fit me at all). Granted, I'm 26 and could probably do with not shopping at junior stores anymore...but the alternative seems to be dressing like an elderly lady, and while I love me some 80 year old women, I'd rather not dress like I'm going to my own funeral. I know I'm not very small, but...I don't even fit into plus sized clothing. Seriously. It's all too big. (Except bras. Totes hafta buy that shizzzz at Lane Bryant. 38DDD's ya'll. boom) And yet...why is other clothing too small? Why am I forced to feel as though I need to lose weight to fit into something?!?!?!
And then, I read this article on xoJane, and it completely reaffirmed my feelings.
Clothing companies are bullshit.
Who the hell comes up with these sizes anyway?? There are stores that my aunt can't buy from, because they don't make clothes small enough, and stores I can't buy from because their size extra large is approximately the same size as a children's blouse.
Why does the fashion industry consistently mess with our heads?
And why the hell can they not figure out how to make larger shirts LONGER instead of just WIDER??? (All the width in the world will not help keep my boobs inside my shirt, fyi.)
My name is Traci.
I weigh 187 pounds.
I ate doublestuff Oreos for breakfast.
I think I'm really pretty. Like, really really pretty.
I don't give a shit if you think I'm fat.
Also, I have superhero boobs.