I’m Not a Perfect 10
Let’s start with that; I am not a perfect 10. Nope, I’m not. That’s true in many senses. Once Upon a Time I was definitely an 8 on the Bo Derek Scale but as I edge my way to 50 I find that my self-image in waning even though I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let that happen. Even though I’ve traded in for real life experience and wisdom I miss being a perky hot little number. I do. It’s true.
That point was slammed home to me this past weekend as I went clothes shopping and felt like a total slug. For TWO days I tried on clothes until I became convinced that a Hefty Bag would do. I spent the whole weekend in a funk. Depressed. Nearly desolate as my soul cried out for those sexy younger days and I was unable to answer its cries or to shut it up.
Yesterday, I put on my brand new Gloria Vanderbilt jeans…size 10! I went to work. I spent the entire day hitching up my pants. Literally. All day just pulling up my pants which seemed to fit my butt and thighs nicely but had no idea of how to cling to my waist. Know what? The same thing happened today as I went to work in a new pair of bell-bottom hip huggers only it was slightly worse. I spent the entire day hitching up my pants simply so my underwear wouldn’t show as the waistband slid off my hips. Hey, I know I’m no Britney Spears…to tell you the truth I kinda like it that way. I was raised in the days when underwear was for your lovers’ eyes only and not for that of the Gen Pop.
What’s the deal? These slacks/pants/jeans fit when I was in the dressing room as they were bringing me closer and closer to a full-out bawling festival. Is someone putting something in the air to make us bloat when we walk into our favorite department stores? Hummm….I wonder.
Then, as I hitched them up for the seventh or eighth time, I started to wonder why no one makes clothes for WOMEN. They make oodles of clothes for the stick figures you see on TV and in the movies and in pages of magazines. You know those young hot things that have NO hips. NO thighs. And certainly NO ass. Basically they’re boobs on a stick with a pretty face. They can have all of the pretty clothes they want. But no one out there seems to make clothes actually designed to fit a WOMAN’S body.
I started longing for the ability to sew or at least for a friend who knows how. I’m thinking there’s money to be made here and a lot of it. I can’t be the only one disgusted with this process. Since I’m aware that the “average American WOMAN” is a size 14 I wondered why designers ignore us in favor for those (fake) busty sticks and pretty faces. Don’t they know how much money they’re missing out by not catering to this market? Why should the malnourished children of Abercrombie & Fitch be more deserving than their adult counterparts?
Not to mention the fact that the USofA is AGING. That’s right, our country’s population is GETTING OLDER demographically speaking. My generation didn’t go out and have 4-8 kids like our parents did, we had one or two and stopped there. So those of us UNDER “a certain age” are fading away and those of us OVER “a certain age” are, as has always been, the ones with the buying power. Especially in this crappy economy. So why not to cater to US? Why are we so unworthy?
There used to be a time when curves; hips, thighs, and butts were actually PRIZED and skinny waif-like girls were pushed aside until they matured a bit more. What happened to that? Is Marilyn Monroe not sexy any longer? I see Marilyn has a new Chanel No. 5 ad. What about Raquel Welch? Elizabeth Taylor? Jane Russell?
Then Twiggy came along and blew the REAL female body out of the water. The world has never been the same. Yes, there was a reason she was called ‘Twiggy’ her mother didn’t give her that name; she looked like a Twig, get it? I don’t know about you but I don’t think twigs are very sexy even though I was once a twig.
I may not be a twig but I refuse to buy polyester pants with an elastic waistband! I want comfortable clothes that fit and flatter MY body even though it is no longer young and svelte it is still full of vitality. I now have silver and gray hairs and laugh lines, that means that I want to look my age not my shoe size when I go out in public. I want to be elegant, sophisticated, and to wear clothing befitting my age, personality, wisdom, and experience.
Oh I know; Go to a gym…PAY someone to help you recapture your youth. Work your ass off–literally. But I don’t really want to be young again there are too many pitfalls to it. Why should I have to put myself through any of that just to have clothes that fit right?
There’s got to be some intelligent designer out there somewhere who wants to make their mark and make money…hand over fist. If you are that person there’s a huge market and a massive need for you out here.
Just remember; If You Design It (and make it affordable) They Will Come.
In fact we’ll line up in droves just so we can stop hitching up our pants and be comfortable.