A Message from an Hourglass Figure
I’ve got two weddings to go to in August so the last two weeks have largely been spent searching for something suitable to wear. Altogether I’ve spent around 30 hours shopping and today at lunch finally managed to find something that fit. AND not only did it fit, which is a miracle in and of itself, but it also looks nice. WHOA.
I spent all day Saturday at one of the largest indoor shopping malls in the world and didn’t find a single thing that I could wear, and I’m not exaggerating at all. I get that I’m a highly unusual body type what with my extreme hourglass shape combined with my height, but one would think somewhere in the six million square feet of WEM there would be something that fit me, especially since I was searching without a cap on my budget. If I’d found something for $200 I’d have bought it. I must have tried on over sixty dresses, and not one of them was even within a tailor’s ballpark of being wearable. It really took the wind out of my sails on Saturday.
Go ahead and roll your eyes at my whining if you like. I get it all the time. People would kill for my figure and that’s fine, you can fucking have it. My curves may be coveted and photoshopped into ads and video games and comic books, but I’m sick of being glorified and idealized and sensationalized, and then having people tut-tut me and tell me how fucking lucky I am when I talk about the constant back pain caused by carrying a couple of 32G breasts around all day and the frustration of not being able to find a blouse/tank top/t-shirt/other top/dress that even sort-of-kind-of fits in a world that assumes a B or C cup. The cognative dissonance of knowing my body is an object of envy and lust colliding in the fitting room with the feeling that my shape is freakishly irregular and inconceivably off proportion makes me want to scream.
Tailoring isn’t an option. Going up enough sizes to accommodate for my chest leaves the arm holes and shoulders drooping somewhere around my elbows. Take it from someone who’s done some tailoring in her day, that isn’t something you can fix. The reality is it would be ten times easier for me to find clothes that fit if I gained 80 pounds. What a delightful option that is.
Right now especially the trends are killing me. Everything has seams meant to fall under the bust, and on me they typically fall around nipple height; how very attractive. I can’t wear halters, strapless dresses, spaghetti-straps, or anything with an open back because not even the expensive European designers make strapless bras that actually support me (believe me, I’ve tried on enough of them to know), and the straps on bras that come in my size are an inch wide or wider. And any of those mod-style dresses hide the one thing I’m supposed to be highlighting: my curves. How gloriously frumpy.
Anyway, I suppose all that doesn’t matter because at the end of it all I did find something, but surgery next year cannot come soon enough as far as I’m concerned. I dream of days without back pain and summer shopping for flirty dresses and bras that cost less than $150.