This Is Not About My Self-Esteem

If you were to see me walking down the street, you would think I was perfectly normal. In fact, you probably wouldn't notice me at all. If you did notice me, you might think the following (culled from actual comments):

- Her eyes are really blue.

- Her hair is going gray so nicely.

- She's shorter than I thought. (Apparently people think I am tall. In fact, I am quite short. I cannot count how many times people I've known for quite a long time have suddenly looked down at me and exclaimed, "Wow, you're short!" Perhaps I have a tall personality.)

You certainly would not think that I was some kind of freak.

Oh, but I am.

As the title says, this is not about body image or self-esteem. This is about fitting room facts.

Let's take it from the top.

Broad shoulders. Small breasts (really small). High waist.

Petite tops are out, due to the shoulders. Fitted tops and blouses occasionally work if they are cut exactly right, but often the right size for the shoulders hangs like a paper bag on the rest of the body. Forget darts. I know I should do shirrs and ruffles and flounces to accentuate or hide or artfully highlight or something, but it's not my look. T-shirts are often too narrow, too long or both. Usually, though, I can find something in a small, medium, or large that fits. My wardrobe has a full complement of all three.

Can we just skip bras? No, we cannot, because bras are at the heart of the matter, so to speak. Bitch Ph.D. has written at length on the topic, but she skews large. The options for the woman who has big bones (36ish), tiny breasts (smaller than A), no desire to pretend she has larger breasts (forget Wonderbras), no desire to pretend she has no breasts at all (sports bras are for sports), and a vague desire for pretty bras are, in a word, nonexistent. I'd settle for something that fits. It's not out there.

Moving down: smallish high waist; wideish hips. Which lead to the fitting at the hips gaping at the waist problem. Just about always.

The thighs protrude forward. Not offensively, not so you'd notice, but they do. I think it's because I run so much, but it could just be how I am. Pleats are out. Flat-front trousers are often out. They crease in weird places at the tops of the legs.

Oh the legs. What can I say. The legs are, to put it briefly, short. In my middle age, I have developed good relationships with tailors and accepted the idea that it is ok to buy too long and shorten. Petites can be a good thing, but petites are often unconscionably unattractive. Too often I just hold the hanger at my waist and know it's not worth it even to try.

There are oases in the storm. J. Jill 8P and Old Navy 8 Short are often successful. Feetwise (the feet are a little wide, but generally ok), Nine West 7 1/2 is pretty much always a home run. I can do well at Ann Taylor, especially if Lucy is there for moral support. Little boutiques with helpful saleswomen who believe me when I insist that I am not a 4 or an extra-small are good (really, I am not a 4 or an extra-small, though apparently some people think I am) (I have no problem stating out loud that I am an 8 or a 10 or a S, M or L, but it's probably too long).

So this morning I did finally find two sports bras, because sports bras don't particularly care if you are smaller than an A, but I did not find yoga pants, because apparently only tall people with no hips do yoga.

And don't even suggest shopping online. Because none of it fits.