You know those bumper stickers that say, "I'd rather be golfing" or "I'd rather be fishing"? Mine would definitely say "I'd rather be shopping." Anyone who know me, even just as an acquaintance knows how much I love to shop. Well, today shopping officially turned into a nightmare for me. A complete nightmare.
I haven't bought jeans in quite some time-- no, I'm serious. I decided when I lost weight just to buy a few pairs of every day type jeans. Prior to the anorexia, I had at least 20 pairs of jeans-- boot cut, wide leg, dark wash, regular wash, etc. A few days ago, I was getting dressed to take my daughter to a birthday party and was planning on wearing jeans. A couple of my newer pairs of jeans were either dirty or didn't "have the look" I was going for that day. I wanted to wear a pair of boot cut, dark blue jeans and I didn't have a pair. This is when the madness began to set in.... Given that I have all these jeans I thought at least one of the pairs I have that fit this description would fit. ...wrong. Nearly 11 pairs later, I realized none of my jeans fit me. OK, well, time to go shopping then.
Online shopping is actually my favorite. The excitement of coming home from work and seeing a box on the front steps is like Christmas morning to me. Certain stores I can buy without trying on because I've been shopping there so long. During a lull at work this week, I perused the Banana Republic website and found the exact pair of jeans I was looking for. Fantastic. Now, the last couple of pairs I bought were not huge on me but they could have fit better so I decided to go down at least a size. I checked out the handy dandy size chart and saw waist sizes and their numbered size counterpart. The last pair of jeans I bought were a 25 inch waist and thought, I could use the 24. And there it was 24 inches = 00. No fucking way. There is no fucking way I fit in a double zero. I was in shock and started to get anxious so I stopped the shopping immediately. This had to be wrong and I clearly was going to need to try on the jeans.
Like I said, I don't really know what I way (...sort of) but decided I had to check out this 00 bullshit out for myself. I went shopping. In the car ride over, I thought about all the things I ate today. That took about .0006 seconds. I hadn't eaten anything. Per usual, I had my coffee with an extra shot of espresso (or as I call it, breakfast and lunch) in my hand and walked my way into The Gap. I perused the merchandise, found exactly what I was looking for and pulled the size 2 off the shelf. A kind sales person let me into the changing room where I tried I jeans that were too big. Um, OK so I guess I try the zero. Moments later, she knocked on the door to ask how I was doing and I asked her for the 0. I asked in the lowest voice above a whisper--- as though I was asking for a size 26.
She returned with the 0. I sat on the bench, put one leg in each side and began to get knots in my stomach. I couldn't bear the thought of standing up and buttoning them. Fuck me. These were too big. This wasn't happening to me. I literally started to feel like Lily Tomlin in The Incredible Shrinking woman. After some time, the same patient sales person returned and asked how I was making out. I told her,"Oh not so great. These didn't fit either." I was waiting for her to suggest I go next door to Gap Kids but instead she said, "Well, they come in a 00." Of course they fucking do.
While I waited for the 00's to arrive, I sat there thinking I bet it's the cut of the jeans that runs big or maybe they were jeggings but finally came to terms with the concept that it doesn't matter if the 00 jeans are a 10 in another store or 6 in that store, they were 00. Period. When she handed me the jeans, I tried them on quickly. They fit perfect. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought "wow, I have really big hips." Then I noticed my thighs weren't touching. MY FUCKING THIGHS DON'T TOUCH. Most women's dream was my nightmare. I began to cry. This wasn't right. In fact, it's really bad.
I got dressed, bought the jeans and ran out of the store. I got in my car as fast as I could. Sat down and threw up by the side of the car in the parking lot. It was my anxiety. Fortunately, I got sick instead of having a panic attack (yes, believe me this is so much better). Even though there was a possibility I was a 00, I never knew for sure 100% until now. I used to see the size in the store and think, "who the fuck fits into those pants?" Now I know the answer to that question.... and it's scary. What's even scarier? I still thought I looked fat in the jeans.
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