I have a sweater. (Stunning lede, no? Wait, it can only get better.) I’ve had this sweater for ages, four or five years at least. (See, nail-biting drama here. I don’t know if I can contain myself.) I really like it. (Surely this is Pulitzer-quality material?) I’ve worn it at least a couple of times every month for the last few seasons. (Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the editorializing now.)
Ahem.
Anyway, I have this sweater, and despite the fact that it’s got horizontal stripes in a deep charcoal through deep purple, it’s a flattering fit and looks quite sharp with a pair of dress pants. And in addition to looking sharp, it’s wonderfully comfortable, one of those sweaters that feels good to wear and makes you feel good wearing it.
So today I pull it out of my closet (another aside, will I NEVER be done with the sweaters this season? Where the hell is spring anyway?) and as I’m pulling it off the hanger, I notice something that makes me do a double-take. I look closely at the tag and realize that this sweater is a medium size.
Hmmmm.
I don’t wear a medium in anything. I’m a size 12 pants, maybe 10 on a good day, but I’m a large to extra-large kind of girl on top. Even if it looks capacious on the hanger, there’s no way I’d even bother trying on a medium in a store. Between my solidly large Germanic bone structure and the vexatious breasts that truly don’t need any more written about them and my lifelong aversion to tight clothes, I haven’t bought a top that was a medium since I was a teenager.
How the hell is this shirt a medium? When I bought it, I was a full pant size *larger* than I am now. And how have I worn this sweater (counts on fingers and toes) at least 40 times over the last four years and not noticed it was a medium?
I could have puzzled this out for hours, but sadly, sitting on the edge of the bed and contemplating life’s sweater mysteries is not an acceptable excuse for not showing up at work. So I pull it on and start to get on with my day. And I tug it a little bit, and fuss at it in the mirror for a while. Because, suddenly, it’s not sitting right. It’s clingy in the wrong way, and when the heck did it start riding up at my neck like that. It feels so… so…
It feels so medium.
Sigh. You know now people refuse to wear a certain size of jeans because they just can’t stand the idea that they’re an 8 instead of a 6? (Cuz really, people who are a 16 never seem to have this issue!) I never really understood this mentality. If the jeans fit, who the hell cares what the tag says? Except now, I get it.
I’ve now psyched myself out of wearing one of my favourite sweaters. It’s just too medium for me.
Is there a man alive who understands this post? Hilarious.
So Dani,
Get out a marker and change the M to an L.
And this is one of the many reasons why I fluv reading ur blog 🙂
I wear a medium. Send it to me! 🙂
I have the opposite problem. I have this skirt. It’s a size 10. I bought it because I couldn’t believe I fit into a 10 (and I don’t, not now anyhow).
Now how’s that for successful marketing? It’s probably at least a 12, I wonder if I would have bought it if that was on the label?