I hate shopping. I particularly hate shopping for clothes. This is because the fashion industry has joined ranks with the diet industry and, through the insidious use of media, has waged a secret, evil war on my self confidence.
Before you start fitting me for a nice jacket that buckles in the back–I say “fitting” because, depending on the brand, I could be anywhere from a Medium to a Women’s XXXL– please be so kind as to indulge me in a little game. All you have to do is match the shirt I’m wearing in the following pictures to the size listed on the label. Easy, right?
One of these shirt is a Large, one is an XL, and one is a XXL. Which is which?
All woman, baby.
Here are the tags in the same order that I am wearing them.
How is it, you may ask, that the tightest frikkin’ shirt is also the one listed as the largest size?! I know why. Because it is a “ladies” 2XL. It is not a shirt for a man. It is not a shirt for a woman. It is a shirt designed solely to fit some fictitious “lady,” who, it seems, is now under the false assumption that she is much larger than she thinks she is and should probably eat nothing but rice cakes and water until she’s beautiful again.
Still think I’ve got my tinfoil hat on too tight? Take a look at the quality of women’s clothing in comparison with men’s clothing. That Ladies XXL up there is made of thinner, less sturdy material than the other two shirts. But don’t take my word for it. Go to any clothing store and compare sizes, workmanship, and materials for yourself.
Then, compare the prices. It seems insane to me that while women are still paid less than men for the same work, we are charged more for inferior clothing, health care, and even something as innocuous as a haircut. In 2015.
While you ponder that, I’ll be over here eating my daily allotment of rice cakes, brushing up on my curtsies, and plotting the downfall of the fashion/diet juggernaut of evil. M’lord.