The Women’s Department

What’s the deal with the “Women’s” department? You walk into a department store, even a rather upscale one, and notice that the clothing on display in the Misses department is attractive, just the style you’re looking for. You know it would look good on you if it was just a little bigger. So, with hopes raised, you make your way to the Women’s department. It is pretty easy to find, over there between the Petites and the Maternity wear. You begin to scan the racks for the good looking blouses you saw on your way in, or that perfect pair of black pants for work. You move from rack to rack, heart sinking as once again you encounter the cheap fabric adorned with sparkly sequins, gold paint, ruffles and foil thread. Why do the clothing designers think we want to wear that stuff? Being fat does not make one a tasteless hoochie, nor a baby. Do the pants have to be made of stretch polyester with elastic waistbands? Must the legs of the jeans be tapered to emphasize a big bottom? What’s with the sweaters and t-shirts with fake blouses sewn to the sleeves and neck? I don’t see those in the Misses department. Why are the fabrics so sleazy? Built in jewelry? Glaring colors and flamboyant designs do not flatter a larger body. The prices are higher (more fabric?) but the quality is rock bottom. When I read so much about how fat Americans are, necessitating larger coffins, wheelchairs, beds (all accoutrements of longterm obesity, I know) I expect I will see some more satisfactory accomodations being made in the Women’s Department. It’s hard enough to be overweight without having it shoved in our faces every time we try to dress ourselves.


One thought on “The Women’s Department

  1. lola8282 says:

    I hear you Lynn! My pet peeve is all the embroidery work I see on blouses that could have looked stylish without them. Living in South Texas, those snowbirds that travel here all wear them. Walk toward the Nuevo Progresso Bridge and you get more than your dose of light denim blouses with topiaries, birdhouses, ladybugs and butterflies. I dread the day I start likeing them, but I remember the day I thought those low wedge shoes were old ladies’ shoes, now look who’s wearing them.

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