forget retail therapy; I need therapy from retail
Since my 25th year of life prompted relatives to send me some of their hard-earned cash, I went clothes shopping on Sunday. Not because I'm the kind of girl who goes shopping every weekend, but because honestly, I need to. My wardrobe is completely out of balance. I have 57 sweaters, 2 short sleeved shirts, and one tank top with a hole in it. Spring and summer are coming and the best I can do is wear pink socks under my boots, and if I don't do anything about it soon, I'll be rocking those boots come August.
The reason I don't have warm weather clothes is because I hate warm weather clothes. There is no part of me that wants to wear a crop top and shorts the width of a seatbelt. I don't like tank tops and short dresses, and I'm just not very comfortable in any of it. Also, nothing ever fits me. It's my curse.
I haven't bought a pair of shorts in three years, but it's not for lack of trying. I've found one brand of jeans that somewhat understands my body, but for some reason I cannot find a pair of shorts that fit me correctly. Shouldn't shorts fit like jeans, just....shorter? They should. But they don't. I always wear a vastly different size, and once it fits over my hips, there is a gaping hole in the waist and it feels weird around my thighs. They're all just so uncomfortable and poorly cut. I've always thought I had a weird body, and this confirms that. Shopping for anything to wear below the waist sends me into a downward spiral of raging emotion faster than anything else can. I have a smallish waist, childbearing hips, and a booty that just won't quit. No, really. One of my friends in high school told me he'll always remember me because, and I quote, my "butt is as big as a house." There wasn't one part of me that was offended, because he was and is right. I need the shorts that Kim Kardashian wears, though preferably with an extra yard of fabric, because in no universe do I want to dress like her. Last year I wore jeans all summer, and while it was miserable, I survived. Except I'm going to the beach in a few months, and jeans aren't going to cut it.
There's another problem: I do not like neon or pastel colors. I do not want anyone to think I smeared my shirt with a highlighter or was inspired by traffic cones. And with my coloring, pastel colors wash me out and will make you question if I'm on my deathbed. Which I'm not. Unfortunately, these are the only two types of clothes all stores are selling right now. I went in upwards of ten vastly different stores, and it was all the same story. Pastel shirts, orange shorts with hot pink embroidered anchors, and navy blue pants with pink and orange flowers. These are literally the only things to choose from, and every store has a slightly different version of it. I'm not really into the whole nautical scene, because I'm not in a sorority and also, this isn't New England. This is Ohio, and if anything should be embroidered on my shorts, it should be corn. Cats would also be acceptable. Plus, the last time I had patterns on my shorts or pants, my mother was still buckling me into a carseat.
Everything has become a J Crew knock-off, which is sad, because I hate J Crew. The structured, preppy look is just not me at all, and it will be a cold day in hell when I buy a $70 tee shirt. And another problem is that I have no idea what my personal style is. It's forever evolving. I buy things I like and manage to smush it all together.
I walked from store to store hoping for one blouse, one pair of shorts that I could rescue from the overwhelming sea of neon and pastel grunge. Anchors and flowers and mint green bermuda shorts swarmed around me so fast I got dizzy. The mall was sweltering and I started sweating through my hoodie. I was being punked by all major clothing retailers. They made clothes to fit the entire population except for me. I ran out of the mall, desperately clinging to my resolve, and thought maybe I'll try Old Navy. They're very hit or miss. I walked in, saw someone from work, and walked right back out. After rolling my eyes at the patterned pants, of course. The J Crew disease is spreading.
After that I did what any girl in my situation would do: I went home and ordered a pizza. You know, to help the shorts fit. And I hit the internet in hopes that someone somewhere understands that we don't all want to dress like we're either living in the 90s or on our way to a yacht party. And you know what? God bless the broken road that led me straight to Modcloth. At this rate, my entire wardrobe will be from there. Every shopping disaster leads me there. But where else can you find tees based on my favorite books and blouses with cats on them? That right there is my person style summed up.
Still no shorts, though. I'm about to take some scissors to a pair of my jeans.