Just Like Everyone Else

"58 Million Overweight; 40 Million Obese; 3 Million morbidly Obese", according to the CDC Statistics for the United States. For the record, the calculation of obesity is based on a BMI (Body Mass Index) of 30% or higher (meaning you are about thirty-forty pounds overweight). Morbidly Obese is a 40% or high BMI (forty-fifty pounds overweight approximately). The statistical average for overweight are people with about fifteen to twenty pounds to loose, but are active in doing so (gym, diets, etc.)

I thought a little statistical lay out would help put things in perspective for us, because as we all know the CDC is the national go-to people when it comes to us laying out the requirements for children (Presidential Fitness Testing is mandatory to pass in High School and Junior High School in America, and is based on CDC weight loss and BMI calculations and statistical analysis) as well as our health insurance, general treatment by our physicians, and of course, how the country itself will look upon us. That, people, is our first focus. If you're even in the overweight category, walking into a store like Target or even Wal-Mart can be daunting if you are headed to the clothing aisles. The limitations placed on us by the marketing reps for these companies (and many others, but I'll hit those up momentarily) never cease to amaze me. Try a little experiment if you disagree with me, walk into a "general store" (Wal-Mart, Target, Fred Meyer, etc) where they have a small, but decent clothing section. Go towards the largest of your sex's clothing area. Randomly (and let's make sure it's fair, close your eyes and just take the first thing your hand lands on) pick up an article of clothing. Look at the size. Is it your size? Is it even CLOSE to your size? Most of you will say it isn't, I guarantee it. For us women, it'll be a five, or nine, potentially a twelve. For men it'll be a medium, maybe a large. For a society with stats like the above, it sure it hard to cover ourselves up, isn't it?

This rant isn't limited to women or men; in truth, we both have the same problem. It's not just women who are overweight, is it? And while there *is* a debate that clothing men is easier than clothing women (in terms of locating things that fit correctly), I'm not going down that road. No, we'll be equal today. Because in all honesty, we are all being equally discriminated against. So what about the other stores, the Macy's, Sears, J.C Penney's, Kohls, etc. They must be easier to locate sizes above the considered "norm" since they specialize *in* clothing right? You'd be wrong to think so, because despite having a broader spectrum of attire (and arguably better quality in many cases), you'll have generally the same situation. A small, if not insulting, section located in the far reaches of the store with a few random items that have been deemed the unimaginable, the abysmal, "Plus Size" section. You'll find the same thing in the men's department, although they've given up naming the sizes above a 40 or Large to simply the oh-so-creative, "Big & Tall". In essence, for a man, you must be both to buy clothing. It's a sin for you to be simply one or the other. In our sections of disregard, we have the same general selections despite the season or the occasion. Here are a few of the items you can count on being present:

--Elastic waist cotton pants
--Tee shirts (solid colored, rarely patterned)
--Polo shirts (same as tee's)
--Jogging/work out clothing (sweat pants, drawstring pajama style pants, hooded sweat shirts, etc.)

The slight differences in our departments would be that in the "Plus Size" realm you have skirts that are knee length or longer (also traditionally elastic waisted), the occasional button down shirt (solid colored or designed with something akin to large plastic gemstones), and of course, jeans (90% of the time any size higher than a 20w is impossible to find, and many also contain the fat-woman's friend apparently, elastic waists). In the "Big & Tall" kingdom, you'll see the cotton chino-style pants (welcome back elastic! We missed you!), the button down camp-style shirts (mostly short sleeved, because apparently fatness is warm), and oddly enough, shorts. Yes, shorts in that department of the men's clothing can be found year around. Basket ball style shorts, the famed chino-style, draw string, etc. Jeans? You'd have more luck in the women's departments guys, sorry.

So if you can't find clothes in the department stores or the general stores, where do you go? You go to the speciality stores, that's where! Where the sizes are more commonly easier to find, the styling a little bit more broad and trendy, and where you can be sure that asking for a bigger size won't end you up in something that could double for a moo-moo for us ladies, or sweat pants for you guys. This fabled place where we can feel like humans again and like potentially we can look appealing, pretty (handsome), or at the very least comfortable. But settle down, because once you see the price tag you may need a defibrillator to bring you back around. These stores know that they are limited in numbers, and that we (the 50 million or so), are dependent on them to bring us a little of the respect that other, considered beautiful and worthy, individuals get regularly. They are so "in the know" about it, that charging fifty dollars for a tee shirt doesn't make them squirm with embarrassment. Or watching the economy stricken customers they have wince, as they shell out a hundred and twenty dollars for a pair of jeans (the kind where elastic isn't the main material). They use the fact that no one else is stepping up to the plate, and if we don't like the cost, well my friend you can just waddle it on down to the Sears across the parking lot and yank up a pair of those lovely elastic waist little numbers and head on home.

Our choice is to wear what we can afford and feel even lesser about ourselves then we are conditioned by television, radio, even strangers to feel. Or, we can sell a kidney, put ourselves in debt, and be extra careful with the washing of anything we own and buy the clothing choices that allow us the minimum ability to "blend in" with the people around us. The Lane Bryant's, Avenues, Casual Male XL's, they know we are so limited, and still so very human in our need to be accepted and admired, that the price tags can say anything, no matter how outrageous, and we'll try won't we...we'll try to fill in the need with the cash, and walk out of the store holding our bags and mentally telling ourselves that it was a "necessity" and what choice did we have. Sadly, both justifications are true. And sadder still, often result in us returning to buy more from that same place.

With a society so apparently overwrought with overweight tenancies and the obesity rate as high as it is, you'd want to argue that more designers, more stores, more ease would come (and come soon) for us wouldn't you? That general stores would find themselves losing money on the clothing they did carry, and that places like Kohl's or Sears would scratch their heads and consider expanding the larger size sections and including fashionable, acceptable, clothing for the customers. But you'd be holding your breath for a long, long time because in truth regardless of how much we'll spend to look "normal" we are the people that are overlooked and glanced over. It's the people we see on television, the actresses and actors in movies, the styles that get the attention of the few that can wear it that they see. A loss for them? Absolutely. A bigger loss for us? Unfortunately.

I'm going to take a moment to say something to the catering stores that allow us to shop there as they financially devastate us: I am fat; not stupid. I am aware that flowered, large, brilliantly colored outfits might look fashion-forward of the size small and mediums of the world. I'm equally aware that I look like a circus tent when I put them on. Also, flared jeans do NOT make you "appear more balanced in the waist and hips" for women. They make you look like your ankles are as big as your ass, and there is no need to draw MORE attention to your ass. Please stop carrying "low rise" jeans in sizes above a sixteen. They don't look great on women who can wear them, so shoving our heaviness into pants that are made to "hang" on the hips do nothing more than make us appear as an overstuffed muffin. Gentlemen, stand up for yourselves with the goddamned hawaiian shirts please. Just because you were a 3x or higher doesn't mean you are on vacation in the Bahamas all year long. Putting drink glasses and fruit or large St. Bernard's do NOT make it more "festive", it just makes you look like you wear black socks with shorts (and if you do, please knock that the hell off too). Stand up for yourselves against the insane theory that you must be seven foot tall to wear a size 48 in pants. That a 48" waist man cannot by any means find a pair of 30" inseam jeans is a goddamned criminal act.

We are people too. Yes, we maybe bigger than others, we might look like Kate Blanchett or Brad Pitt, we may need a few additional inches here and there. But we want the same things you do. We want to be pretty, or handsome, we want to be appreciated and admired for our taste. Instead of dressing us like targets so people know we are unworthy of the above, instead of making us poorer and more depressed, instead of focusing on trends and not what actually *looks* good, and instead of making every single one of us understand that we are NOT your priority, NOT your favorite client or customer, and NOT your problem...try to see that we are the majority now. And in the future, will push out the size twos and mediums into the minority. We are power executives, we are great mothers and fathers, we are good citizens, tax payers, law abiders, neighbors. And we will, by God, been seen as equal to the rest that hold us down because we are different.

In closing, I want to tell you about something that happened to me. I was twelve years old, in Junior High School, and my P.E. class required us to "purchase" gym uniforms. The uniforms were shorts (a terrible golden rod color), and a dual sided tee shirt in black and the same godforsaken golden rod color on the opposite side. The shorts and shirt were a requirement, and you'd get "points" taken off if you arrived on the tarmac for class out of uniform. Too many points removed, no matter how great you did in the class, you'd never pass it. The uniform shirts came in size s-xl. The shorts, the same. XL was the equivalent to a woman's size 14, and the boys XL was around a 34" waist. The shorts were very short, traditional gym shorts (or often called running shorts), and had an inseam of about three inches or so. My parents, having no choice, gave me the money to purchase these items in the student store. I bought both in XL, being twelve and not fully grasping the idea that one XL doesn't mean another will fit simply because it says its the same size. I went into gym that day, my shorts and shirt under my arm, and began to dress. The shirt fit, a little snug over my (smaller than now, however, lol) belly, but the shorts..the shorts I couldn't get up past my thighs. I struggled for a good ten, fifteen minutes in the dressing room until most of the girls had left and I was in there alone. I looked at the tag, even knowing I had gotten the right size, and it confirmed it was an XL. There were no sizes bigger. The low that I felt, the embarrassment that steadily creeped in as I slid my pants back on and slowly made my way back out into the tarmac was unbelievable. The teacher wrote my demerit down, and after class was over I told her I had bought the uniform, that the shorts were in my locker but they hadn't fit even though I bought the XL. She looked me, straight in the eye, and said "well then..looks like you need to loose some weight if you want to pass this class."

As it ended up, I wore the sweat pants that were part of the uniform, snugly like the shirt, for the remaining year even in the heat. But that feeling, that feeling of not being good enough to fit in with the rest of the class, the feeling of knowing that I was the only little girl out there in August, sweating profusely as I tried to run laps, that stayed with me. And even as I look back on it now, wondering how many other girls or boys had that same problem, how many sat in the locker rooms holding those shorts and willing themselves NOT to cry because they felt too ugly, too terrible, to be treated just like everyone else.