lookbook

I enjoy looking at LookBook. Seeing other people’s fashion senses is kind of fun. A lot of them are kind of…terrible…but the vast majority are really interesting outfits. And the shoes? Man. Jealous. And taking note of fashions from around the globe is kind of thrilling, too.

However, I’ve one complaint – why is everyone so tiny? I thought maybe it was some kind of fluke at first; maybe I’d caught the site on a skinny day? But the more I browse, the more I notice that pretty much every person on there, guy, girl, and otherwise, is skinny skinny skinny. Why is that?

I know for a fact that skinny people don’t have the market cornered on fashion sense. So why don’t any bigger people show up on the site? Part of me thinks it’s some kind of self-containment. Someone bigger than, say, a size 6 glances at the site, sees all the tiny people, and decides, “Oh, this isn’t a place for me.” Lather, rinse, repeat. But why shouldn’t it be for us? Why shouldn’t average and larger people be content to flaunt their stuff here? Or maybe on a separate website that’s more…accommodating? Maybe that’s what we need, a version of LookBook that caters to all types, not just skinny hipsters. Does a site like that exist? Maybe one should be started.

growing up chubby, part 2 – clothes are also stupid

On top of the fat thing getting in the way of dating, it also got in the way of being completely fabulous dress-wise. Mostly, my clothes came from the same place my mother’s clothes came from–Lane Bryant, Simply Fashions, so on and so forth. These were not stores for teenagers. It seems so odd to say, but back then, there were exactly 0 options for girls that were overweight who wanted to look cute. Either you dressed like a soccer mom or you went naked.

My solution to this was to wear a lot of black, and a lot of men’s t-shirts. It was not cool. I wanted to have the same kinds of clothes as my friends had. I wanted to look cute. Instead, thanks to my weight, height, unfortunate clothing options, and gigantic effing rack, I usually looked like a chaperon to my friends rather than looking like one of them. I hate to say it, but I was almost relieved with my new set of friends in high school because it meant I could dress like a bum and fit right in, rather than be concerned with not having Abercrombie whatever the hell they sell in that horrible store.

However, around senior year, I practically cried tears of joy once I discovered that Alloy.com carried larger sizes. And when a mall here opened a Torrid store (which is now closed, thanks a lot, Memphis), I wanted to shout from the rooftops. Finally, clothes that were more me. The problem, though, is money. How does one overhaul her entire wardrobe? The answer, one doesn’t, if one is me. I still have a decent amount of my old clothes. On the other hand, I got rid of a lot of them, and made room for better clothes.

What’s funny, though, is I still don’t dress the way I would love to. I’m drawn to ’50s era dresses, but I don’t have the balls to rock one. I would sell a kidney for a corset, but once again, I just can’t bring myself to buy one. I’m very good at talking myself out of things; people around these parts don’t dress that way, so why should I? I stick out enough as it is already. And on top of that, no one wants to see a chubby girl in clothes like that, right? But really, I’m only hurting myself by not doing what I want. So, I’ve decided that when I ever get a little extra money, I’m going to buy at least one decent piece to incorporate into my wardrobe. For now, I’ll just covet and drool.

growing up chubby, part 1 – boys are stupid

This may come as something of a shock, but I was a skinny kid.

I was thin up until around 4th or 5th grade. You’ll never guess what happened that caused me to gain weight.

Yeah, screw puberty.

I had a full C-cup in 6th grade, when most of the other girls were barely working on A. And they just. Kept. Growing. Then my stomach and thighs and upper arms followed suit, as if it were some kind of race to see who could out-chub who. It’s awkward, growing up bigger than your peers, especially when you throw in that I was also taller. Thanks, family, for your awesome genes.

To compensate, I pretty much decided I had to be funny. People liked me when I made jokes, even though a lot of the time, they were unintentional. I can be kind of a blunt person at times. There are moments when I honestly don’t realize that what I’m saying can sound mean or overly critical, just because it seems like a logical thing to think or say. Thanks, family, for the assburgers. But in being so blunt, there’s apparently a comedic value, and that was my in-route to popularity. That, and my best friend at the time being super pretty. Thus began my career as the funny fat sidekick of various hot chicks, the one the boys would turn to only to get the scoop on said chicks. It sucked. But I smiled my way through.

Until junior year of high school, that is. During this time, there was a turning point. I was starting to hang out with new friends, and feeling pressure from the old ones. It literally hurt me to go to school every morning; I would have appalling stomachaches like clockwork. Finally, my mother agreed to get me checked out by a doctor, who diagnosed me with social anxiety and depression, and thus stuck me on Paxil. Not exactly the solution I wanted, but oh well.

You can imagine that with anxiety, assburgers, and much hotter friends to contend with, my love life didn’t exactly skyrocket. I had exactly one date in high school, and it didn’t really go too well. I could never be sure if my lack of attention from boys was because I was shy or because I was fat. I leaned toward assuming it was the fat thing. It bothered me more than I ever let on, and it still does.

However, nowadays I am about 90% certain that I’m a cute person, regardless of my weight. There are tons of other things to be insecure about, but as far as I’m concerned, I look good. I’ve still not dated much, but that’s my own choice and not because there aren’t offers. Been there, done it, got a cat instead. Most all of my friends are married or in the process of it, but I’m just not there yet. I thought I was, for a brief moment (okay, two brief moments, thank the Lord I saw the light both times), but I’m content doing my own thing. And I’m doing it while being fat, and that’s totally cool with me.