I love keeping up with today’s fashion trends, but sometimes that means scouring clothing racks for the right fit with no success. It’s an incredibly frustrating process that can leave a person feeling insecure about their body. And today is no different, because I swear to God, if I don’t find a pair of shortalls that fit over my ass I will burn this TJ Maxx to the ground.
Just because I am not a size two, doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to look like a carefree teenage indie princess. Some people have asses, you know, and if I don’t find a cute little denim number that perfectly compliments my body shape I swear I will engulf the premises in flame.
I can’t tell you how many times I have entered a dressing room, optimistic that I’ve found the perfect pair, only to have my hopes dashed when those teeny denim tubes refuse to budge past my thighs. This continual disappointment has filled me with a white hot rage, a rage similar to the heat of an inferno that may very well incinerate this discount department store if my modest demands are not satisfied.
Sure, I am not the music-festival-attending, vinyl-collecting, hat-wearing type. But what gives clothing designers the right to judge who does or does not get to frolick along the beach in a flawless denim and nautical-stripe ensemble? I deserve to look like a quirky, ukelele-playing, hipster baby, instead of a frumpy 20-something in the TJ Maxx junior section who has gallons of lighter fluid in her car.
All I’m saying is, if I can’t find an adorable pair denim shortalls that fit over my size ten body before labor day, I will rip a jumpsuit off a hanger and use it as kindling to exercise my fiery revenge on this store and every Maxxinista in the vicinity of the Knollwood mall by reducing them to mere ash.