Thursday, 21 July 2016

a twenty-something horror story: the next size up

'can i still wear disco pants?!' she thought to herself in frustration as she tore the entirety of her wardrobe apart. she held the ragged worn away leggings up, with the white elastic peeping out around the crotch area (victim to many slut drops in night clubs that couldn't quite handle the pressure and passion behind the dance move). 

she shook her head, said 'goodbye old friends, you served me well', and decided she needed to go shopping.

she blinked hard as the sunlight hit her face, and she grimaced as the shoppers around her pushed her out of the way with no regard for who the hell she was. she yearned for the safety of ASOS, her lion king pyjamas and a quiet room where she could totally pretend that a sequin body con dress would be flattering on her. the harsh world of physical shopping had not hit her for quite some time, and she was unsure if she could cope with the battlefield in her old age (23).

a gaggle of teenagers strolled past in their identical uniform of high ponytail, leather jacket, crop top and blue jeans - the only difference being their shade of adidas trainers. boys with their immaculately styled man buns hustled into foot asylum to buy the latest plain white t shirt with a logo on it for £50, and mothers battered their way through the crowd with their five storey buggies full of shopping, and their child dragging along side them. she felt out of place in this new world, but took a deep breath and headed into the only place she felt safe.


house music was played at the highest possible volume by a DJ in the corner of the shop, pretending his audience was a pumped up crowd in Ibiza and not stressed out saturday shoppers. 'why do they have DJs now?' she thought as he spun a funked up version of 'someone like you' by adele, and realised she really was no longer the crazy fresher of yesteryear. 

23 is a funny old age, she thought as she looked around for suitable attire. you're still undoubtedly young, but not quite as young as your glitter, hot pant loving days you relished at 18. you used to pick things up and think this would look FAB with my crop top and heels! and now tend to lean more towards i could wear this with tights AND bare legs...  or even worse, the dreaded this will be good for work as well thought that cements your demise into... gulp... adulthood. RIP youth.

she scoured through racks of led zeppelin vests, high waisted mom jeans and over priced basic t shirts, and settled on a palm tree jumpsuit. she picked up her usual size, and sauntered over to the changing rooms. 

changing rooms, it should be noted, should be used as an interrogation tactic by armed forces. pop a stressed, hungry girl in a small, dimly lit sweat box and you'll get all her secrets. trust me.

she began the humiliating dance of undressing, and cursed herself for choosing to wear the annoying trainers with weird laces. she continued to damn her choice of underwear - note to self: the simpsons pants and lumpy bra do not serve you justice when a mirror delivers a reflection of your rear end. 

she slipped the jumpsuit on.

'oh yeah, it went right over my legs. like butter. so glad i had a diet coke with my chinese last night'.

she pulled it higher.

'this is my new go to summer piece. so classy, but the print shows I'm young and willing to have a little bit of fun.'

she pulled it higher, to an uncertain pause. the jumpsuit stopped playing ball around her hips.

'wh...what??? surely not. this is a TEN. i'm always a ten. have i missed a zip?!?!' 

she tried in vain to continue pulling it up, but her voluptuous booty she so proudly shook after 3 malibu and cokes would not allow the jumpsuit to grace its presence. there was no missed zip. there was no stretch. it was just her, a half on jumpsuit, and her shattered pride.

she looked up and saw a woman in total desperation. sweat decorated her brow, her simpsons pants were laughing at her, and the EDM remix of 'i'll be there for you' blared louder than before. how could this be?? she went to the gym, she was not overweight, and she even turned down that second krispy kreme at work the other day. how could she NOT fit into her beloved size 10?

'this is ridiculous. women are ALL SHAPES AND SIZES TOPSHOP. we are all beautiful. my hips are too much for your shitty jumpsuits with its cheap material anyway. i am a size 10 and i will not be made to feel bad by a shop run by someone who also owned BHS. good day.'

she quickly changed into her size 10  Topshop jeans, followed by her size 12 H&M top and size 14 New Look  jumper. she slid into her size 8 trainers and rearranged her size large Victoria Secret sports bra. she ran back to her car, and vowed never to leave the safety of online shopping again. 

because the next size up was only ok if it was on her terms, duh.

until next time xo 


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