20 March 2007 - 4:31 am

It's funny, but I work in accounting, and play with numbers all day long, and it takes a shopping experience at Target to realize this, but:

Numbers Lie.

So there we are at Target, trying on clothes. Wait, I need to preface this.

I was about to throw my birthday party, and Yvonne insisted I go shopping for a party dress. At the time, it sounded like a good idea, but then some unexpected expenses came up, I overdrew my account, I transferred money from savings to checking, and still I was broke for my party. Okay, going shopping for a party dress, no longer important, and no longer affordable. But I went anyway, just to see what was out there, just to see if anything would fit. Besides, if anything jumped out at me, that I had to have, there was always the credit card. That was how I was going to finish paying for the party, why not a dress?

We went to a mall, and first stop was Forever 21. They try and make you feel good by not bothering with actual sizes, and everything is small, medium or large. I saw some cute things, things that really would be cute, but because they are cut small, medium or large and not a specific size, none of them really fit at all flatteringly. Of course, if I were a size 6 or so, they would hang off my body, all wispy, wafty, and they would look great, regardless of not fitting precisely.

On to the next place. I think it was J.C. Penny's. There I discovered clothes in the mature women's section, but didn't like the colors, didn't like the fit, none of it was fun in a modern way. None of it said come have a good time. But a size 14 fit me, and still wasn't quite tight enough in the places that mattered to me. That felt good.

The mall was getting ready to close soon, so we tried to hit someplace that might have sizes that fit me. We went to a large woman's store. I found a wonderful party dress, all poofy layers of taffeta under a green, shiny shell, that hugged and emphasized my curves. It wasn't even one of the sizes of 1X or 2X or 3X like the majority of clothes, but something smaller. I would think about it.

We went to Lane Bryant, another large woman's sized store. All the mannequins were oversized, towering above us, as if to say, 'we Amazon women are also why large clothes are made, and there is nothing to be ashamed about in buying your clothes here.' But I'm not an Amazon, that's not why I would buy my clothes there, I'm just overweight. The mannequins frightened me, all white and faceless, expressionless, merely large guards or guardians of the clothes. There was no messing with them.

Eventually we left. I hadn't bought anything, but I hadn't really found anything that fit, and I was in love with, so it was all fine. Crisis and dilemma averted, I hadn't had to make a choice of spending money or not.

So the party came and went, and here we were at Target again trying on clothes. Yvonne was looking for perfect summery clothes, things like skirts that would flatter her. I wasn't looking for anything, I just came along to get out of the house. But here was something cute. And this too. Yvonne and I tried on the same dress, she a medium, me a large, and it fit me, and fit her. We were happy. It didn't flatter me though, so I put mine back. But this skirt worked, a basic black number, with an asymmetrical hem, fitted at the waist, and tulip shaped. Just enough roominess cut and designed in, that my fat ass worked perfectly in the skirt, without being obvious there was a fat ass beneath the fitted waist. That's my biggest problem for my lower half, is my waist is still proportionally much smaller than my butt, (actually, it always has been, no matter what size I am), so if I can find something to fit my thighs or butt, often the waist is far too huge. And this was the best part: the skirt was labelled as a size 12. Didn't believe it, but wasn't going to fight it. And there was a dress I tried on, a stretchy Jersey number, I figure it will be perfect at festivals and concerts with nothing on under its sleeveless arms, or with a short, puffed sleeve top to wear to the office. Or perhaps a short, fitted sweater/jacket to go on over. And again, this dress said it was a size small. Right. Sure.

It would make sense that Target would lie about its clothing sizes, it wouldn't surprise me one bit. The average American is increasing in size by leaps and bounds, or by bites and slurps, (and lack of leaps and bounds), and so to have people buy my clothes, I would gladly change the sizes listed to make the people feel better about their bodies. Better enough that they would be willing to shell out money to buy some more things from my store, I certainly would. Perhaps they are even buying some new clothes because they are feeling fat, and here I can easily make them feel better and happy, all with the change of a number. No harm done, right?

Back in my slim old days, I already knew that different designers cut their clothes differently enough that what was one number with one designer could never possibly fit on my body, but if I adjusted a size or two for the other designer, then it would fit. Obviously, some designers were preferred by me because the cut being just a little more generous, I could fit in the numbered size I thought I should be.

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror the other night, brushing my teeth, and something was different, I couldn't quite place it. I lifted my shirt up, and let it fall, and saw what it was. It looked as though, now merely looked, I was slimmer. My clothes were hanging from my body closer, longer, as if my breasts had reduced themselves somewhat. My stomach seemed a little more flat, but I might have been holding my breath in at that point.

When I got on the scales the next morning, nothing had changed, it still read the same number, and yet I felt as though I knew the truth, that that number also was a lie. My pants have been feeling looser too, the same belt cinched in no longer holds my pants on and around my waist, but now are heavy enough, not gathering anything in its grasp, to fall below my waist.

And yet the numbers haven't changed at all, it all says the same numbers, and yet I think things have changed.

Having nothing to go on but my suspicions, I will continue to suspect the best, that I am slimming down, that my fat is being replaced by muscle and thus why the numbers stay the same, and believe that the numbers lie and are not to be trusted. They don't lie at this point, they just don't mean anything. Hey, if all this helps to continue to slim me down, I don't care. I can believe what I want.