In middle school, we had to take six week rotating classes. The classes covered art, drafting, woodshop, cooking and sewing. I sucked at art, drafting involved something boring, in woodshop, I did my best to set back women's lib by asking boys to finish my projects. I liked cooking because we got to eat, and I got an F in sewing. Yes. An F. Needless to say, my mom who is a pretty decent seamstress nearly strangled me.
I have clothing issues. Serious clothing issues. Right now, I weigh about ten pounds less than I did when I got pregnant with Luke. Maybe only five pounds less after this past weekend's food binge. Anyway, even though I weigh five-ten pounds LESS than I did back then, there is not a chance of my jeans from then ever fitting.
Because in case you didn't know, having two babies, one of them nine pounds, does THINGS to your hips. Not pretty things. Things that cause the following scenario to happen:
I go clothes shopping and pick out a cute pair of low-rise jeans. I grab a six. They fit nicely over my thighs, but then they just stop at my hips. I don't even try to button them because I know I don't have a hope. Move up to a size eight. Same scenario. Grab a size ten, and they maybe button over my hips, but then they bag horribly in my thighs and over my flat, white girl booty. Seriously, you might not think it's possible to make jeans look like parachute pants, but this is how they fit me.
At this point, I return the jeans and stomp out of the store in a fit of disgust that clothing designers don't realize that women aren't uniform, that we're big in some places and small in others. Now, let's pretend that I DIDN'T get an F in sewing all those years ago. What would I do? I'd open a boutique called Big & Small, and I'd take clothing orders for women. I'd make clothes that fit THEIR bodies, so they never had to worry about muffin tops or parachute pants ever again. I'd make the clothes big in the right places and small in the places that were small. I'd make sure the women leaving the shop looked and felt as gorgeous as they deserved, instead of worrying that the clothes were emphasizing the worst parts of their bodies and hiding the best.
Oh, and as long as I'm talking about my ridiculous body, I should add that the cute boys who came out of it are SO WORTH IT. And speaking of one of those cute boys, you might maybe want to go here and vote for him (NUMBER FIVE)?
My freakishly disproportionate hips and thighs thank you for the vote.
I have clothing issues. Serious clothing issues. Right now, I weigh about ten pounds less than I did when I got pregnant with Luke. Maybe only five pounds less after this past weekend's food binge. Anyway, even though I weigh five-ten pounds LESS than I did back then, there is not a chance of my jeans from then ever fitting.
Because in case you didn't know, having two babies, one of them nine pounds, does THINGS to your hips. Not pretty things. Things that cause the following scenario to happen:
I go clothes shopping and pick out a cute pair of low-rise jeans. I grab a six. They fit nicely over my thighs, but then they just stop at my hips. I don't even try to button them because I know I don't have a hope. Move up to a size eight. Same scenario. Grab a size ten, and they maybe button over my hips, but then they bag horribly in my thighs and over my flat, white girl booty. Seriously, you might not think it's possible to make jeans look like parachute pants, but this is how they fit me.
At this point, I return the jeans and stomp out of the store in a fit of disgust that clothing designers don't realize that women aren't uniform, that we're big in some places and small in others. Now, let's pretend that I DIDN'T get an F in sewing all those years ago. What would I do? I'd open a boutique called Big & Small, and I'd take clothing orders for women. I'd make clothes that fit THEIR bodies, so they never had to worry about muffin tops or parachute pants ever again. I'd make the clothes big in the right places and small in the places that were small. I'd make sure the women leaving the shop looked and felt as gorgeous as they deserved, instead of worrying that the clothes were emphasizing the worst parts of their bodies and hiding the best.
Oh, and as long as I'm talking about my ridiculous body, I should add that the cute boys who came out of it are SO WORTH IT. And speaking of one of those cute boys, you might maybe want to go here and vote for him (NUMBER FIVE)?
My freakishly disproportionate hips and thighs thank you for the vote.