The promised rain has finally arrived, and I was tempted to go out in it and pray for body shrinkage.
Sadly, things like that only happen to clothes, and we all swear blind that it’s not us expanding but what we wear diminishing in the wash.
Most of my readers know I hate shopping, especially for clothes or shoes, but sometimes I feel a little dishabby (a cross between dishevelled and shabby) which calls for certain loved worn out items to hit the bin and be replaced.
A week or so ago I purchased new joggers and tee shirts (all mens) in a smaller size.
Hubby and I wear the same so it cuts down on wardrobe space as we are I suppose ‘Unisex’ wearers. I do draw the line at underwear though, as his Ys do nothing for me and he’d look ridiculous in frillies (if I wore them you understand).
Now get that vision out of your head and read on.
We were coming back from walking the dog yesterday when one of our boating friends called after us holding a rather large carrier bag.
Very discreetly, and emphasising that she hoped I wouldn’t be offended, she said she was having a clear out and as I was shrinking and she wasn’t, would I like to have a look.
I have no problems at all with wearing second-hand clothes (especially as a lot are things I would never have originally been able to afford), but this lady is considerably smaller than me in all directions, and when she mentioned ‘Size 14’, I said I didn’t think anything would fit as I was an 18, if not a 20, but thanked her for her kind thought.
She said to have a look anyway, and to return what was of no use to put with the rest of the stuff allocated for the charity shop in town.
As soon as we’d cleared the hatch into the boat, Hubby demanded a fashion show.
Reluctantly, I emptied the bag and took off my tee shirt.
Inside were a dozen tops, either tee shirts or shirt style blouses, in sizes 14 and medium.
The first one I tried on was too tight across the shoulders, so I wasn’t really surprised.
The green vest fitted OK though, and even better it was nice and long to cover my backside. Clothes manufacturers these days seem to think female waists begin under our boobs or armpits, as ‘longer length’ tends to just clear my naval.
I put it to one side, and tried on another. That too fitted as it was the same style.
Hubby was pleased.
The buttons and button holes on the blouse I tried on next were destined to be forever apart, so that went on the reject pile, which was a shame as it was rather pretty.
The next tee shirt was a good fit, but the following two were not my colours and were tight in the arm.
There were two blouses next on the bed, and holding them up I saw Size 14 on the label so thought ‘No Chance’. But I tried them on anyway, and was amazed how comfortable they were.
I kept them both as with the vests I can wear them open like a jacket on cooler evenings.
In all, I kept five, and feel on top of the world just as I did when I bought my jeans a few years ago. They were a size 16, and the last pair I’d bought years before were a 20 and too small, but I didn’t have the heart (read embarrassed of my size) to take them back.
Clothes sizing in the UK is always changing, and I’m not kidding myself that I could go into one of the popular fashion chains, select a size 14 off the rack, and it would fit.
It’s not just size that counts, it’s the fabric/material, style and cut.
I’m so lucky to have such a thoughtful neighbour. Thank you.