Kaftans and Camel Toes!

Shopping - one of my least favourite past times. Put Simply, there was nothing fun about shopping for kaftan's, moomoo's and Bridget Jones style underwear. Naturally however, being a female, I possessed some inner oestrogen trigger working against me and conspiring to get me into the mall and swiping my credit card, despite the self-conscious resistance!

Being a bigger size and yet a younger girl, always made shopping challenging. In my minds eye I had visions of wearing hipster jeans, groovy belts, cleavage enticing shirts, perhaps even a beret (as if!). Sadly however, the best I could do was accessorise with shoes and handbags! Shoes were a given anti-depressant. When the groovy belt's didn't fit, I'd buy shoes instead. When the hipster Jeans made me look like a hippopotamus wearing a swim ring, I'd buy shoes. When the beret made me look like an overweight Britney Spears - I'd buy shoes!

Ironically I actually spent a few years working in a hip clothing store, Jeans West. We were required to wear the merchandise at each shift, not an easy feat when I had love handles spewing out the side of the "easy-fit, high waist" style jeans and was continually pulling my t-shirt out of it's desired resting place - my roll of back fat!

I was working with an eccentric gay man at the time who was a barrel of laughs and fun to boot - but had one major flaw - his fashion sense! Actually, it wasn't a flaw but more like one of his more endearing qualities. He was the exact kind of shopping companion one would want to have. Unless you were fat.

I would arrive at work 15 minutes before the start of my shift only to be reprimanded for wearing last season's fashions whilst sporting a muffin top, a camel toe and cankles all in the same outfit. After a dramatic display of shock and despair which would include fake tears, "why God Whys" and a paper bag for hyperventilation, "J" would set about trying to re-dress a dishevelled and self-conscious me, all the while cursing at my lack of fashion sense and my 'generous' curves. Sadly on more than one occasion I ended up wearing the men's clothes as J tried to pass me off as the store's "tom boy"! Basically I spent my hours looking like a butch version of him!

Needless to say I loathed shopping. Inevitably I would always end up wearing men's clothes or choosing an outfit so wrong for me I'd make an elephants hide look more attractive. I also happened to suffer from fashion/identity confusion. You know the syndrome where one day I'd be decked out entirely in sports gear, baggy pants, jumpers and joggers (clearly trying to give the illusion I was fit) and the next I'd be wearing a business suit from Jacqui E, heels and a french roll to match. I considered a shopping trip successful if I was able to find something which was in between the two styles and suited my age group - this happened very rarely. Some times I wore outfits which were so hideous and akin to Ma Kettle that I am surprised I couldn't attract a seniors discount! All the while my shoe collection was mounting.

When I started to lose weight I was delighted to learn I could shop in the standard section of Target rather than the maternity section. However, despite my shrinking body, my own visual image had not yet caught up and I would still instinctively reach for the large size clothes or anything with an elastic waist. I'd enter the fitting room, try my outfit on and realise with joy that it was simply to big. Reluctantly I would choose the smaller size and when game even choose a more garish item of clothing to try on. Rather than the turtle neck sweater I would sheepishly reach for a shirt with a plunging neck line. Rather than baggy pants, I would dare to consider something fitted, or even in moments of reckless abandon a dress or skirt!

I must admit I am still not accustomed to choosing smaller clothes. I still hesitate when I see size 12 and think, no I better grab the 14, or maybe even the 16! Despite my confidence I still have flashbacks of my tom boy days in Jeans West and freeze. The only thing I seem to know with surety despite having lost weight, is my bra size and it's so depressing it warrants a new pair of shoes anyway ;o)