I was shopping at Kohl's tonight. Screw you if you think it's not cosmopolitan enough. I live in the burbs, my options are few and far between. I look good so obviously they have SOMETHING to offer once in awhile. (Fuck, why am I so defensive?!) Anyhooooooo.
I was passing the "Simply Vera Wang" Collection and I thought, Vera, you is one crazy little Asian bitch!!! Just who in the hell does she think will buy this crock of shit clothing line? Well not me, for starters.
Being a teeny woman, she clearly has no grasp on women who have hips, boobs, a waist over 24 inches, or who've delivered a child over 6 pounds. Do you notice in her ads all the models are painfully waifish and look like heroin addicts? Pleats at the waist do not look good on you unless you are Kate Moss or any other model who is a size 2 or less. Do you know her? I don't. If any of my friends willingly admit they are a 2 or even a zero (and they're over the age of 25), I will punch them in the uterus. So if you are that small, lie to me a tell me your are a size 6. Or you won't be having any baby makin' plans anymore. Vera Wang is a whiz with wedding gowns, though I could never spend $7000 bones on one. Now she makes clothes for the common woman, and badly at that. I also saw her name on mattresses at a bed store. MATTRESSES?! Are you not making quite enough on your gazillion dollar dresses that you have to branch out to random territory. What's next? Toilet bowl brushes? Trash cans? Let it go, over achiever. You can't do everything well.
So why am I so damn obsessed with body image and clothing size? I suppose having shitty body image from ballet will always mess with my head. I am never completely satisfied with how I see myself in the mirror. Honest. I know that is wack. I am a gym rat. I love working out. I would go to the gym 7 days a week if I could. I actually get pissed when I have to miss working out due to church, travel, kids activities, or teaching dance. I guess that sounds nuts. I am not in perfect shape. In fact, I went to a meeting tonight at my plastic surgeon who did my boobs. Don't get me wrong, I love my boobies. And I'm not going to end up addicted to surgery like some Joan Rivers freak or have labia lips like Lisa Rinna. It was interesting to meet all those women who were thinking about getting work done. If you have the means and the will, I say go for it. Women who call you a bitch at the pool are just jealous because they might be able to finance it but don't have the balls to go through with it. Their loss.
I do not want to look like a Vera Wang model. Hell, I don't even really care to look like any model. I just want to feel good about myself in my clothes, the occasional bikini, and looking at myself naked when I'm stepping out of the shower. For the most part I am content. There will always be room for improvement but for now I will enjoy my bulging calves (thank you, spin class), my flat abs covered by a nice amount of loose skin (thanks, two babies and 100 ab crunches a day), and my purchased boobies (thanks, Sultan and Dr. Izquierdo). No amount of working out will EVER make me buy those damn pleated monstrosities, Vera. Give it up. I'm off to spin class now....
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