Rag bag

It is not a coincidence that the name-calling that stuck with me -- even from a television show -- was fat-shaming. That was how I defined myself. Whether I defined myself by my fat because I assumed everyone else did, or whether I assumed everyone else did because I did, I don't know; I just knew that I was fat.

To a large extent, the way that I survived that was distancing myself from my body. I tried to focus on my brain (plus strenuously concealing romantic feelings from other people). I thought I had done that pretty successfully, until I saw a Twitter thread two weeks ago:

https://twitter.com/Artists_Ali/status/1415403809938026504

I had forgotten about clothes shopping. 

The thread is about Lane Bryant taking away the cute clothes in the early 2000s, at a time when plus sizes were also disappearing from other stores, though not in mens' lines.

This meant that fat teen girls had to dress like a "wacky sitcom grandma" and spend hundreds of dollars to do it.

This is true, and yet that isn't even my time period or income level. I never shopped at Lane Bryant because I couldn't afford them, and that wasn't my time period. In the 70s, it was lots of hand-me-downs and Goodwill, plus K-Mart and occasionally Sears. No, I did not dress cute.

As a teenager in the 80s, there weren't really hand-me-downs anymore, so it was mainly K-Mart, but yes, they were often old lady clothes. I can look back and remember how frumpy some outfits were, but at the same time it didn't feel like it was bothering me much then. 

Then I read the thread, and it did bring back memories, mainly of shopping for formals or dressing up. It's not exactly that doing so made me suicidal, and yet I do strongly remember wishing I were dead, and how much better it must be to be dead than to have this pressure of needing to look nice when you are a poor, fat girl. Even for the events where I didn't have to bother with a date, there was still trying to look nice.

In retrospect, the persistence of my regret for letting my mother talk me out of the strapless green dress for prom makes more sense. I really think I could have looked good, when chances for that were so rare, and it was my money; why did I let her discourage me? (Thus ending up in a frilly pink taffeta monstrosity.)

Also, that time in 1993 when I found a (casual, but still) dress I liked at Target, and I bought it in all four colors... I was well aware of the rarity of finding something that worked for me.

Currently, my personal style is to try and avoid standing out as much as possible. I look to have my body as covered as possible, and loosely (though straps come out a lot in that case), and also knowing that some things make me look fatter than others (round necks, full sleeves and 1/4 sleeves both, shoulder seam farther in, short shirt hem), and I try to find them as cheaply as possible. Ethical consumption is generally not even a remote possibility. 

Actually, the current wardrobe does have some hand-me-downs, because one friend's other fat friend died. Still, it's otherwise mainly online ordering, and I don't wish I were dead (at least not because of that), though I also never feel cute.

I am mostly accepting of that, but what the Twitter thread reminded me of was that there were times when I tried.

In junior high once I took an art class, and we talked about complementary and supplementary colors. I tried pairing up different things in my closet, though the only result I really remember was purple pants with a yellow sweater vest. 

In high school I tried some thing inspired by photos of musicians, though they always had cooler starting materials. I do remember pairing suspenders with a news cap, and one time I had these pink pants with an open button down shirt over a T-shirt, and a fedora (lots of hats in the 80s). 

Well, that day I had forgotten it was St. Patrick's Day, so the first thing that happened when I walked into school was my math teacher pinched me. That was discouraging. Other times, well, I don't remember actual teasing, but people looked at me more. Even if they were approving looks, it felt too out there and wrong.

(Plus, I had thought that snap up shirt was cool, and that was the one Steve ripped open.)

All of which is to say that eventually the safest goal seemed to be invisibility. If actual camouflage really did camouflage you in a non-jungle environment, I suppose I would be wearing that. Instead, it was just gradually moving away from patterns and details and accessories (I tried a metal belt once; it interacted with my digital watch to set off the alarm in the library) and trying not to be noticed.

Except when there was something dressy where baggy knits wouldn't work, and then wanting to die.