After a hiatus that’s too long to mention without embarrassment, I am back on the exercise bandwagon. It’s not because of yet another New Year’s resolution and it’s not because I’ve suddenly decided that it’s fun to sweat and feel the burn. That’s still altogether unpleasant and for me, who has had a love/hate relationship all through life, always will be.
It’s because of the grim reality that I found myself facing last week: I simply had to lose a few pounds very quickly in order to fit into some must-wear clothes without certain parts of my anatomy popping out for all to see.
I am producing marketing videos for a local tech company and I was going to be representing that company at NRF — the National Retail Federation’s big annual tradeshow at the Javits Center in New York. A couple of days before the start, my colleague informed me that I would have to wear a shirt with the company logo and I’d have to go out and purchase some white button-down shirts so that the logo could be sewn on in time.
Anyone who knows me knows that 1.) I intensely dislike shopping for clothes and 2.) I don’t have the time to shop for clothes. So I asked my colleague, since she was going to be running out to the mall to pick out her own, to grab some for me while she was there. Petite medium. Petite because I’m short with commensurately short arms and medium because, well, I’m neither small nor large. That sizing has worked very nicely for me in the past.
Well, let’s just say that it did not work so nicely for me this time. It seems that Banana Republic tends to run small, and anyone who shops there seems to know that. And the danger in having someone else purchase your clothes for you without the benefit of trying them on is that you will be caught by surprise, barely able to breathe or button your shirt without exposing strategic areas of flesh.
The company logo had been embroidered on by now and there was no turning back. I had three days to lose about five pounds, and this is why I had to embark upon a crash exercise program and somewhat of a crash diet, which totally goes against my personal code of behavior.
I share this story to elicit sympathy from other women (or men) who have found themselves in these straits and also to get something off my chest — something that has bothered me for some time now.
What is it with these clothing manufacturers who size their clothes in a misleading fashion just to make women feel better about themselves? I’m not talking so much about my recent experience with Banana Republic, which produced the opposite effect.
I’m talking about other brands, specifically J. Crew, for example, which tends to run large. For example, I am a size 8. Not a model-size 8, which used to be the fashion industry standard for the “average” American woman, whatever that may be, but a former size 6 with a little extra room, for me, here and there.
But at J. Crew, it seems that I’m a size 4 or even at times, a 2. Which makes me feel really good, but it’s a false sense of good, because in other labels I can actually run a size two to three sizes higher.
This explains why my closet looks the way it does, and why my husband and children think of it as a black hole in space or like the roach motel commercial on TV — you may come in but you may never be able to find your way out. I have clothes ranging from size 2 to size 12 and everything in between. They represent me at various phases of my life, and unlike Bill who regularly goes through and weeds things out, I have trouble letting go. There are clothes that hold memories and there are clothes that hold hope.
So while it can be dangerous to have someone else purchase your clothes for you and result in an unwanted and unplanned return to exercise, some good can come out of it, the least of which is the added health benefits.
I usually never make New Year’s resolutions because I know I will never stick to them. But now I have one that is realistic because it doesn’t focus on me but my closet. I want to weed out anything that is outdated or doesn’t fit, and for that I want to get myself down to my true life weight. I would like to have fewer than six sizes in my closet. Once and for all.
That will involve exercise and losing a few (well, a little more than a few) pounds.
By the way, my crash program did produce the results I needed. I could button my shirts and get through the three-day tradeshow able to eat and breathe and most importantly, without a wardrobe malfunction. And that’s a good way to start the new year indeed.
