I went to the mall this weekend to pick up a few items for mine and Brent's upcoming California trip. I went in to a cute little boutique that I have always admired. I usually walk by this store, in route to Starbucks, assuming their amazing mannequin fashions are way out of my price range.
I finally went inside and discovered that, yes, they are super-duper out of my affordability BUT, they have a teeny little clearance section in the back. JACKPOT. I instantly spotted some shorts that I have envisioned for months. I was thrilled to finally see them in person!! They were half off of the already marked down price. Can we get a collective AMEN here?!
Small. Medium. Large.
Well, I am a solid size 6/8 - So, I chose the medium and asked for a dressing room.
Holding the shorts close to my chest like an 8 year old getting their first American Girl Doll, I lock myself into the dressing room with my prize.
I remove my Target clearance shorts from my person and, excitedly, remove my dream boutique shorts from their hangar.
Left leg... In.
Right leg... In.
Hips... Defiant, but successful.
Waist... a total revolt. I mean, this medium looked a little trim to begin with, but I'm a medium, then I got to my waist and realized I'm an XL here. What?!
How can a 5'*8" 128lb woman be an XL.
Well, turns out... I am at this boutique.
And at Target I am a Large.
At Walmart I am a Medium.
At H&M I am a US 10 and US 4 depending on the item.
At Express I am a 6.
And at home... I am just right.
My closet isn't filled with a ton of clothes, but the clothes that fill it are nowhere related... at all. I checked. I have size 2 to size 12 in there.
I say this to encourage any of you who struggle with the tag. The number on the tag does not change who you are!!! If you walk in to a store a solid, confident, 150lb person who knows their measurements and size, then nothing can change that. You are who you are, regardless of their label.
Yet, the label seems to have so much power. I must confess, after trying the XS "Medium" shorts, that I had no idea were shorts for Barbie, I immediately shamed myself. I walked out, head down, and regretting the extra egg-white I added to my morning omelet.
Crazy, right? Over a tag!
Have you ever felt discouraged by a tag, a label?
How do you fight it? How do you defeat it?