I apologize for my absence. Truly. I do this a lot, and I appreciate your patience.
Over the holidays, a number of friends and family asked about my blog and why I haven't updated. I could list a litany of meager excuses, but I realized tonight that it was simply that I lost my voice as a writer. I was experiencing life and would think, "this would be great for the blog," but then when I sat down to pen something, the words were forced. I realized that my voice has been changing, I've been wanting to open up at more personal level and have not had the courage. I started to feel pretty backed up.
Fortunately, the universe has helped relieved me of my copy constipation. And the huge dose of print Pepto came in the form of a visit to a local sex goods shop. While my shopping experience was quite pleasant, a realization brought on by the selection of merchandise just pissed me off. And made me want to rant to the masses.
If you feel uncomfortable with the notion of sex good shops, I have two things to say to you: 1. Why the Hell have you been reading this blog? You do know me, right? 2. Either lighten up or stop reading, I promise you that 2013 is taking my musing to a much rawer and open environment.
If you find yourself curious as to what I was doing wandering into a sex goods shop on an idle Tuesday after work, I have one thing to say to you: 1. I'm pushing 30, single, live alone and drink excessively. You draw your own conclusions.
Anyway, while browsing for a few items, I took a couple of moments to peruse the lingerie selection at the store. This particular retailer advertised that they carry a wide variety of Plus-Size lingerie, so naturally I wanted to shop. I happen to love lingerie. In a society that demonizes, discriminates against and generally hates on overweight women, it's nice to have a few things that make me feel sexy. Note: If you think that we do not live in a Sizist society, particularly against women, you are wrong. I cannot-CANNOT- even being to tell you of the outright hateful comments I have had thrown into my face as a result of my weight my entire life. I've gotten, "Your size offends me," to the always unoriginal "Moooooo" as I pass by (jokes on you-Cows are delicious!) to just last week when I was strolling up Michigan Avenue and saw this Asshole look at me and start laughing, waiting until he was one step past me to say, "That's a big bitch." If you think I am exaggerating the prevalence of hate spewed at overweight women (especially the confident ones) you are in an incredible state of denial. Or a part of the problem. The hate that has been directed at me is a big reason of why my blog title is, "Follies of a Fat Girl." It's my way of telling the people who judge me harshly based on my obesity to screw off. Because guess what Asshole who has to be ugly and passive aggressive towards me? I know I am fat. And I like me. I still think I am quite pretty and attractive. And smart, worthy of respect, hilarious, talented, and an all-around amazing little Bear despite what you say. But I do feel quite sorry for you that you are so emotionally constipated that you have to lash out at people you dub as weak or unworthy. And I am sexy enough to rock some amazing lingerie...
...even if I am just wearing it to wash dishes while dancing around to David Bowie while drinking gin martinis. (See above: Almost 30, single, alone, drunk. What else would I do with racy garments?)
Anyway, a number of the garments came in packaging with attractive women modeling the negligees. I scoped them out, wanting to see how the corsets and bustiers looked. Plus I just think boobies are neat and wanted to sneak a few peeks.
While selecting a few items to try on, I had the realization that lingerie designers have it all wrong. All so terribly, terribly wrong. The Plus-size lingerie advertised? All baby dolls and loose flowing things were made for us bigger gals while all the corsets came only in small sizes for thin women.
There is something fundamentally wrong about this. Skinny women are not made for corsets. Corsets are made for holding in all of our delicious, supple curves, flesh and folds. Baby dolls are designed to conceal the fact that skinny broads lack solid child bearing hips and often have no ass.
Think about it in respect to my favorite thing: Food. Let's take a meal of asparagus and beef (Nod to the many men who have "Mooooooed" me.) Now asparagus is long, lean and looks most appetizing when smothered in a billowy swath of delicious Hollandaise. Meanwhile, there are fewer sights on earth more salivation worthy than a delicious beef tenderloin trussed and restrained, the succulent beef bursting to free from those ties as juices radiate, so delicious.
Now flip it. Imagine that same beef tenderloin, all shapeless and frumpy covered in Hollandaise. Imagine those lean and mean asparagus spears trussed together with twine, merely resting inside the restraints rather than screaming for sweet freedom.
Or, if you're not a food person, take a La-Z-Boy recliner and a lawn chair and cover them both. Imagine the recliner covered in a sheet and the lawn chair shrink wrapped in plastic. Now close your eyes and imagine how much more welcoming that scrawny lawn chair would be covered in some beautiful cotton sheets. And that La-Z-Boy wrapped so tight in some plastic, seams screaming to break. You can see through the tension how incredibly soft and welcoming that recliner is. All that fun just bursting to get out.
Get my point? Retailers need to realize that: 1. Yes, fat women do exist and yes we do have sex (ok, some do, I just drink martinis and throw olives at my dog) 2. Not all of us want to hide our bodies and 3. We have money. Lots of it that very few retailers have tapped into. Offer us products that are not made of tragic floral prints on Lycra and cut garments to fit the curves of a size 16 (not just make the model size 2 bigger- I'm looking at you Old Navy! Where am I to put my beer gut in these low rise jeans!?!!?!) Oh, and while we're at it, have you considered reinforcing the thighs of your pants? I am pretty sure I am the sole supporter of the GDP for whatever Asian country without labor laws manufacturers those wonderful little patches that iron on. I've probably saved thousands on simply reinforcing my pants that have worn through as a result of the massive amount of friction my thighs create when hanging out next to each other all day. I'd pay good money to know my pants weren't going to land me in a situation where I hear a rip on an inside thigh to only look down and see a puff of flesh fighting for denim liberation.
Got it designers? Truss us Chubbies up nice and tight to highlight and accent our beautiful curves and save the Hollandaise for the the broads who need to conceal the fact they will probably leave bruises all over their partners from their boney hips.
In the interim, I am going to continue on my crusade to get retailer Dress Barn to drop the livestock housing part of their name.
But first, I need another martini to enjoy with some Ziggy Stardust...