Posts Tagged ‘Banana Republic’

March To Your Own

January 29, 2017

Fucking drummer.

I mean.

I tried.

I so tried.

I went downtown.

I went to Banana Republic, Macy’s, three fucking floors of Macy’s, Nordstrom’s and finally Gap.

I was looking for interview clothes.

My fucking god.

What a pain in my ass.

I am not a great clothes shopper.

It does not matter what my size, I have always had a challenging time finding clothes that fit.

I have had the issue when I was much heavier and when I was thinner.

I am a little heavier than I want to be right now and that’s also something that I have been letting go of.

I am older and it takes more work to hold it off.

And I’m not riding my bike five times a week.

I’ve put on a size in the last year.

There was a time when I was like I will never ever be heavier than am now, I won’t go back the other way, but God has different plans and I have to keep saying, “you’re enough, you are ok, this is the body that God has given you today.”

I also am on my period.

So, yeah, um perhaps not the best time to shop.

Bloated and hormonal.

Bwahahahahaha.

No wonder I wanted to kill myself.

Well, ok, perhaps I exaggerate a little, but I was not happy with what I was finding and how I was feeling and I knew I could get away with something in my wardrobe if push came to shove, but I really wanted to try to get somethings that would work for interviews and also that I could wear to work.

And yes, I did find them, at the Gap, as I mentioned earlier.

I got two long-sleeved cotton dresses.

Super simple, long drop back, slightly higher in the front hem than the back, classic, elegant, easy, and I can pair them both with cardigans and look super polished and not over dressed.

I say over dressed as I have been wondering what the hell does one wear to a “casual interview.”

Fuck.

I just googled “casual interview,” I should have done that yesterday!

I had no clue that this is actually a thing.

And.

Yes.

Whew.

I succeeded in my shopping mission, my two dresses fit the bill.

I’m going to wear the soft cashmere grey cotton dress and a black cardigan with black leggings and the new shoes I found.

Yes.

I did find new shoes, but it took a minute.

I went to Macy’s and Nordstrom’s, they often carry my size, but I couldn’t find a thing, I mean, really nada, I got a bit frustrated and I was going to give up and just say fuck it, I’ll wear my nanny clogs, they’re not exactly fashion forward, but they’re not Converse and they’ll do in a pinch.

Then as I was heading back to my scooter.

John motherfucking Fluevog to the rescue.

I had eschewed going in when I had parked by the store on Grant Street.

I mean, I love Fluevog’s, I have two other pairs and they are fucking gorgeous shoes.

But.

They are super funky and eclectic.

Hmmm.

Hey.

Aren’t I super funky and eclectic?

Um.

Yeah.

So.

I popped into the store.

I looked around a bit but wasn’t seeing what I wanted and then the guy behind the counter came out and was super chill and funny and relaxed and asked me what I was looking for and we walked around and chatted and I told him what I had from them, but that I wanted a flat shoe not a heel.

And holy shit.

Thank God for asking for help and receiving it.

“I actually want to show you these shoes, they’re men’s but they’re super unisex and I think that they’ll do the trick, I’ve had a couple of women buy them now and they all really loved them.

He showed me the shoes.

Oooh.

Yes.

Yes, come to mama.

They are a pinked grey wing tip brogue with a two-inch hot neon blue platform sole.

They are so fucking fabulous it’s hard to stand it.

I tried them on.

They fit perfect.

And they are super unisex and hip and cool and just funky enough to make my outfit not so plain Jane, grey dress, black leggings, black cardigan, they elevated my outfit and also made it me, made it mine, I was so happy.

They are the Sid.

They rock.

It was extraordinary how just letting myself be my own person suddenly helped me find what I needed.

I am not average.

I am not.

And that is so ok.

It really is.

I get to embrace that and I’m so happy that I found an awesome pair of shoes and a nice couple of dresses, I got the same dress in grey and also in black, I’ll wear one of the other to my interviews.

I’ll either pair the dress, depending on which color I decide to wear, with the Sid or I’ll wear one of my other pair of Fluevog’s, probably the red and white polka dots, the black dress is simple enough that I can wear an extravagant shoe, and though it’s a heel, it’s not a super high heel.

The other pair I have might work, although the heel is a bit high, four-inch Cuban wood stack heel.

Anyway.

I am rambling.

I found my interview clothes.

Heh.

I am wearing the grey dress right now, actually.

I stripped out of my clothes, tried on the dress and the shoes as soon as I walked in the door and was mighty, mighty pleased.

It looks fucking great all together.

Clean, simple, elegant dress, cool, funky, eccentric shoes, perfectly me.

Now that the shopping is done for a while I can get on the school work tomorrow.

I’m going to knock out my Trauma paper, do my taxes, cook some food for the week and go get a manicure tomorrow.

And yoga.

I’m a weekend yoga warrior right now.

It’s not enough, I’m realizing I will have to either up my exercise or figure out my food and dial it down a bit.

Or maybe.

Just accept that this is where I am right now and that I can be fierce and sexy and fun and funky and eccentric and as long as I’m not eating the sugar and the flour, that I am ok.

I really am.

And I have fabulous shoes.

I mean.

Please.

Life is great.

Who the fuck am I to complain?

I got a god damn interview Thursday!

This is amazing.

This is excellent.

Things are good.

All the things.

All of them.

New fabulous shoes most certainly included.

Seriously.

Retail Therapy

January 25, 2015

I got me some.

And now, like a good therapy session, I am all tuckered out from the effort of being present and in my body.

A body that I still don’t always see that well and when I am thinking it’s a fat body, it’s time to stop the shopping.

Size eleven is not fat.

In case you were wondering.

“Why aren’t I a size ten?” My brain started questioning my blue jean choices, and when I go there I can go there quick.

I did pretty well before the blue jeans began to be too much and I had to call it a day.

I actually may have found a pair but I was too tired and starting to second guess myself.  I need to enlist a girl friend to go jean shopping.  I am not good on my own.  In fact, it was suggested to me that I either go future clothes shopping with a friend or enlist a salesperson.

That, helping customers fit into their clothes, is apparently one of their jobs.

Who knew.

I started off the shopping with a bang and a special treat for me.

I went to Chanel on Maiden Lane and bought my signature scent–Egoiste–I have not had it for the last month, having run out around my birthday.

I had some expectation that I might get perfume as a gift from someone, but uh, that didn’t happen.

And like the flowers I eventually bought myself, I bought myself perfume today.

I don’t have to wait for a partner to treat me well, not that my ex didn’t treat me well, he absolutely did, but there were things that I didn’t get myself for a moment when I had expectations around the holidays.

Expectation.

Leads to resentment.

Oh my yes.

And I can expect idiotic things too, I realize this all the time.

Like, oh, this is rich, I should be going to graduate school to get a literature degree or a Masters in Creative Writing.

Despite the fact that all the programs that I have applied to turned me down.

I still have this antiquated idea that I am supposed to be doing this thing where I write, make gang loads of money, and I don’t know do something with the English Literature degree I got as an undergraduate.

As though the benefits of studying have to pay off monetarily.

As if it wasn’t enough that it was through studying TS Eliot and Shakespeare, and yes, Tolkien, that I rediscovered God and went from being an atheist/agnostic, to believing in God.

Something that was very helpful to me when I got sober.

And continues to be helpful to me.

But no, I got that degree with the intention of becoming a writer.

Oh.

Wait.

I am a writer.

But, it doesn’t look like how I think it should look.

Neither do those jeans, but hey, you’re not fat either.

Aside.

Even after nearly five years of maintaining an over 80 pound weight loss, I still gravitate to the plus size clothes section and got excited when I walked into H & M and saw that they now have a plus size section.

Hey lady.

Snap out of it.

I am not a size 26 anymore.

I am a size 11.

Which is not the size 10 I eventually got down to, but wasn’t able to really sustain without restricting more than I should considering my energy levels, body type, and the amount of bicycling I do.

End aside.

I shared these thoughts around graduate school today with someone before heading out into the wilds of San Francisco shopping (which were wild, I had no idea that there was going to be a protest downtown or that the streets were torn up with construction projects).

I told her that I was beating myself up for applying to program that had nothing to do with my writing or my literature degree and that I was still holding out on the idea that I would be making it as a writer.

Famous.

Rich.

Worldly.

As though I am not already.

Famous in my own mind.

Rich in love.

Worldly in my travels and experiences.

The perspective is just different.

She laughed at me when it all finally came out, and pointed out to me how important words are to a therapist, the words behind the words, the language that is being spoken, the things that people say when they aren’t actually saying anything, how important that communication is and understanding of language are to a good therapist.

Well duh.

I had not seen it that way and I was astounded by how spot on she was.

Of course!

My gift for language will be used and used better than any of the silly fatuous fantasy I have of what it means to be a writer.

She also pointed out that I am not actually great at being isolated and that perhaps I don’t want to have a career that is so focused on being alone without distractions.

Another great point.

And then, the ringer, how much I can be of service.

She told me things that I don’t see often in myself because I have this idea of who I am that does not always match up to who I am.

I’m getting better at it.

I am.

And I was able to leave Tart to Tart with a smile on my face and be ready to tackle the shopping.

Which I did with gleeful abandon until I was done.

I actually did really well.

Two pairs of shoes, one pair of black leggings, new earrings, new makeup, new hair clips, a new skirt, a new sweater, a new bra, a tank top, a baseball jersey, and a new jean jacket.

Plus the perfume.

In total I shopped and bought at nine different stores and went into at least another six or seven others.

I went to Chanel, Macy’s, Nordstrom’s, Nordstrom Rack, H & M, Urban Outfitters, the Westfield Mall, Zara, Banana Republic, Gap, Anthropology, Claire’s, and Beauty Lands.

No wonder I am tuckered out.

I don’t do this very often and next time I do have to go with a girlfriend for some body perspective, but I can give myself a pat on the back for doing the deal and taking care of myself.

Even if I didn’t find the perfect jeans.

I still found what I need.

The metaphor for my life.

I may not get what I want.

But what I am given is always.

ALWAYS.

Beyond my wildest dreams.

 


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