The other day I went to the mall in hopes of sprucing up my post-baby wardrobe. I felt a little out of place, since my days of mall-going in the past nine months had been nearly non-existent, and I was no longer sure which store/category I belonged in, not being any older or less fashionable, but still sporting a slight post-baby body and the stroller and baby to match. As you can see, my coordination hadn’t failed me.
I gathered my gumption and sallied forth to peruse with the best of them in any store I pleased.
Finding a top that I thought might work for my rockstar husband’s impending concert, I went into the tiny teenager-sized change room and crammed in my stroller behind me. Standing wall-to-wall-to-wall-to-stroller, I then attempted to wrangle my way into the top while ensuring I kept rocking the stroller with random hip jostles, hoping it would give the illusion of motion and keep baby B happy while I evaluated the situation.
The situation was me, in a shirt that had potential but that was a little too large. I was too squished to contemplate slipping out for a smaller size. Or slipping out at ALL for that matter. Was I stuck in here forever? In a shirt that didn’t fit properly? Is this how I was destined to be seen for a rescue?
Rather than call for help and risk certain fashion embarrassment, I waited and stopped my hip jostle. If a baby cries enough usually someone will come and offer assistance, I figured.
Eventually, as they often do, the perky sales girl came and, after a perfunctory door rap, asked me how I was making out. On a side note, I always find this question a little disconcerting. It really is a very strange question of someone, who, for the most part, is alone or with children in a change room - but that is another thought for another time.
Feeling excited that my problem could now be solved, I asked for a smaller size, whereby followed a very strange exchange:
Me: Would you be able to grab this shirt for me in a smaller size?
Sales Girl: Actually, I think that top is a One Size Fits All.
Me: It’s a shirt. Did I mention that?
Sales Girl (perkily): Yep! One size fits all!
Me: But this shirt has a size on the tag. Are you sure?
Sales Girl: I will check.
The sales girl came back shortly with a shirt boasting a smaller size on the tag, but when I flipped over the store tag I realized that the manufacturer label really read O/S…one size. Hmmm.
Naturally, I stubbornly tried it on in hopes that this was all a big misunderstanding. Sadly, the tag was labelled correctly. Where the “larger” size bagged, this one bagged. They were exactly the same. My mind was boggled. How is it possible to make a form-fitting shirt that fits everyone??
Is this a case of the magical travelling pants, which made everyone’s bums look great despite the friends being a wide variety of sizes? Because I do believe that was a make-believe movie, and in real life clothes don’t magically fit you no matter your size – I hadn’t been away from shopping for THAT long.
So, in order to lift my spirits, I bought the shirt in the smallest size. Why by an XL when the XS is the same?
Have you ever had it that when you noticed or learned something the same kind of thing seems to start popping up everywhere? I do, and I did. To my surprise, only days later I found a company boasting intimates that were also a One Size Fits All. Now whether you consider yourself a cup-half-full, or a cup-half-empty kind of gal, we all know that a little more than optimism is needed where your unmentionables are in question.
So I ask all you ladies (and men too) who have come across this in your shopping sprees… do these clothes fit you? Are you this elusive “all” who now has their own size?