After Mike threatened to “kick my ass through my blog” (the logistics are intriguing, but maybe no?) and a very, very, very long lecture from my friend Krista, which lasted the better part of today, it has become clear to me that there are issues that need to be dealt with. So I’m going to deal. The unhealthy attitude has been identified, the lightbulb has lit up above my head and I can now see and hear all the digs I’ve taken at myself over the last 4 months. And dude, it’s not cool. It stops now. Life is too short and I’m far too fabulous to be putting myself through this shit.
That said I would like to suggest that the clothing industry and the scammers that are involved in the bridal industry (let’s jack up all our sizes so we can give people larger sizes than they are and use numbers so big that we’ll seem justified in charging them extra for “plus” sizes. Jackals) change the way they label sizes. I had this idea today, when in the midst of telling me off for being retarded about my body image issues Krista said something that stuck in my head. “Sizes are meaningless. They’re not consistent between stores and all that actually matters is how you look in it in the end.” Which is very true and if I’d been using my brain at all I would have remembered that before Sunday’s meltdown.
So I propose that we do away with the numbers system, but a series of labels that say something complimentary about the body type they’re meant to fit. For example, someone who was a size 6 could be “Whether you’re short and sweet, tall and lithe, you’ll look so great in these pants, you’ll catch everyone’s eye.” Or a size 12 “Work those curves girl. I said, work those curves girl. No one fills a top the way you do girl!” That way, if for some reason you have to tell your size to someone, you’re actually forced to say something nice about yourself.
Another brilliant idea, I know.
Today’s sing-a-long song: “Battleflag” by The Low Fidelity All-Stars
HRH
