Shopping in the Women's Department

My friend asked me the other day what I expected to be different in my life if I got to and stayed at my goal weight. I don't think that I'll get a better job; I happen to like the one I have already. I don't think it will change my love life, my friends, or my family. I don't expect a Cinderella ending to life just because I become thin. But there are some things that will change. And one of those changes is that I will never again shop in the Women's Department.

The creator of the first Women's Department had a cruel sense of humor indeed. What is the rationale behind make women who are struggling with their weight, a little or even a lot heavier than the average, have to walk all over a department store to find clothes in their size? Are they trying to force exercise on us?? Because it is the rare store that actually has the Women's Department adjoining the Misses Department. I'm not even going to go into why THAT is a stupid name for a clothing department. But would it be so wrong to have them interspersed? Do they need to be kept separate because thin women are afraid they will catch being fat? Or are fat women so disgusting that they should be consigned to shop in outer Mongolia?

It feels as if being fat were akin to being a leper in biblical times. Let me lay out the scenario for you. I enter those magical glass doors into a huge, welcoming department store, full of possibilities. The first floor is brim with beautiful things to temp the eye, as well as the pocketbook. The floor itself is a beautiful marble that reflects the overhead lighting and makes everything appear happy and bright. As I travel the first floor of the store, I begin in cosmetics and perfume. Everywhere are lovely, thin, well-manicured sales women busily selling expensive perfumes and lipsticks. They are all occupied helping women who are richer and thinner than I. Next up is the accessories department. Leather belts, purses, and costume jewelry; everything designed to be the icing on the cake of a well thrown together outfit. Shoes follow that. It's true that shoe size stays somewhat constant and it is never quite as discouraging trying on shoes as it is the Terrible Threesome (jeans, bras and swimsuits). Nevertheless, it is possible to find shoes that make your feet look fat. Who would have thought it to be true; but it is. And forget stilettos. When I am ** pounds overweight, those cankles just cannot support all that fat on top of two little sticks. There will be no sexy sashaying about for me. So, yes, even the shoe department holds some disappointments. I leave the first floor with barely a glance at the men's department. However, I have to wonder if Men's Wear is placed on the first floor because the designers believe that men are too uninterested to keep shopping if they have to go up a floor to find dress socks and ties.

I take the escalator to the second floor, noticing the mirrors that run the length of the escalator. All I can think is, "I really need to drop this weight." There is no marble on this floor, but lush carpet that soothes the shopping weary feet. Ah, department after department of clothing designed for thin women. Yes, there is a corner devoted to children. But the remaining floor is filled with bras topping out at 36C, dresses, suits, active wear, jeans, outfits for work, sweaters, swimsuits, and everything else to delight a feminine heart; row after row of beautiful fabrics, daring and fun designs, endless possibilities, as far as the eye can see. Thin, well-put together women are happily shopping, arms full of clothing to gladden the soul. I search and search the floor looking for my size. Why is it that a 16 can be found in the Misses Department (although they get snatched up rather quickly) and an 18 is "Persona non Grata?" Quietly, I ask a busy sales woman, "Where is your Women's Department?" She acts as if she doesn't hear me. I ask again, a little louder this time, "Excuse me, Ma'am, where is your Women's Department?" This time she sniffs and says as disdainfully as she says loudly, "Our Women's Department??? Third floor." She brushes me off and brusquely hurries off to help the first thin woman she can find.

Escalator to the third floor. As I step off, I see housewares, linen and towels. Where, oh where, is that blasted Women's Department? After walking the floor twice, I see it in a distant corner of the store. The carpet is the lowest commercial grade, the lighting less elegant, and even the racks don't appear as nice.

And then I have the limited possibilities... There is soooo much less to chose from. The colors are so dowdy; not-so-rich grays, blah navy, dirty-earthy brown, and; of course, the inevitable black. What color and patterns there are look like something only a great-grandmother would wear. There are no saucy skirts, flowing dresses, or well-cut suits. Clothing here is designed to cover and nothing more. And yet, it is still so hard to get a fit. When I am thin, I can try on many things that look cute and make me feel feminine and fun. When I am fat, I am looking for clothing that minimizes the bad. Does it cover a roll here, some flab there? Looking in the three-way mirror, I'm amazed that my butt really is that big. Finally I find it; the single item I was looking for. It's not a color I would have chosen and it's too loose here and too tight there. But, it'll do. The words that snuff out the last remaining joy of shopping. It'll do. There, I am done.

I had the opportunity to go to a black tie event not too long ago. I don't live in the circles where such an event comes around often. I did find a department store that had a dress that made me feel reasonably attractive; good luck that. But how much more fun would it have been shopping for a dress with sparkle and pizazz.

I hope there is a special place in hell for dress designers who only cater to thin women. I hope that they spend eternity having to cut out dowdy tent dresses in size 22; no make that size 26.