You’ll be surprised to hear that buying clothes when you are a size 20 isn’t without its pitfalls. Tiny fitting rooms, snooty Saturday girls and not being allowed into New Look eating a pasty, even though it’s right next door to Gregs! The biggest thorn in the side of the curvy consumer however, is this little fucker! The size cap! It seduces you, it makes you feel safe, excited that they have your size, like the retail gods are smiling down on you. Then when you get to the fitting room you realise, hopefully before you’ve put it on, that the dress is actually a size 8 on the wrong hanger. It’s like finding out Santa isn’t real all over again.
I did trust the size cube once. It was a dark day. It was a 6 on an 18 hanger. I did not check because I was in a rush to get to an appointment. Spoiler, I didn’t make it to the appointment. I was stuck, like this, for 27 minutes. The girl kept asking me if I was ok through the curtain. She probably thought I was injecting heroine. One, because I sounded weird and muffled saying, “just making sure I like it”through a thick corduroy pinafore and two, because in Swansea people shoot up in fitting rooms a lot. I thought, This is how I’m going to die! I tried to wiggle out but my hands couldn’t bend and I was sweating like a trucker in June. I tried to rip it but that wouldn’t work. I managed to free one hand and tried to saw my way out with my house keys. To no avail. I sat down and cried. I phoned my sister to asked her to come and help me but she is a grown up with kids so she just laughed. After resolving to bite the bullet and ask the petite, 16 year old hipster handing out the tags to set me free, Jesus took pity on me and drew my attention to a hidden zip. A HIDDEN ZIP!
After reapplying some make up and putting my wonderful, perfectly fitting clothes back on, I informed the shop girl the dress didn’t suit me and walked out like Beyoncé. The moral of the story being, check the garment NOT the hanger and if in doubt style it out.