Size Matters

Recently, a friend was purging her wardrobe and invited me to choose whatever I liked from her discard pile. As we approached her closet, she asked innocently, “What size are you?” That very innocuous question stopped me in my tracks.

Over the years, I’ve been a size 6, a size 12, and everything in between. I’ve bought outfits too small “for when I lose weight.” I’ve refused to buy new jeans until I was a size Something. I have dresses that still fit 10 years later and clothes that will require surgery if I’m ever to wear them again. It seems a strange paradox that, as my height diminished, my weight did not.

Sadly, I’ve been known to secretly accuse the dry cleaners of shrinking my clothes. I’ve been reduced to doing squats to stretch tight pants and who hasn’t laid on the bed to zip their jeans? It seems to me Large is the new Medium and size 10 may or may not fit an average body. Which begs the question, what is average? When I find my weight on the BMI chart, I’m reminded I need to grow a few inches.

After spending way too much time contemplating the question, I’ve decided I’m a size comfortable. If it pinches, puckers, or pulls, I’m not wearing it. This decision inevitably results in me wearing the same outfit every time I leave the house but at least I can breathe, sit, and eat without fear of an embarrassing roll (not the buttered kind). I’m hoping to rekindle the elastic waistband trend of yore. Comfort or bust!