Dear Vanity Sizing

Dear Vanity Sizing,

Stop it. Please. Just stop it.

It’s rare enough that I even look at what I put on my body in the morning. Rarer still that I recognize that I’ve had that same pilled sweater since 2004. And you’re more likely to see a unicorn than you are to see me arriving at a store to torture myself go shopping. Why are you heaven-bent on making this process even more difficult for me?

It’s not that I hate my body, I just hate clothes. Why does everything look like it was built for a 4-year-old stripper? When did all tops become clear and cut down to the bellybutton? When did it become impossible to distinguish shirts from dresses? Why does everything come in a legging? Who are these no-waisted, no-thighed, breastless pregnant bone people that all clothes seem to be cut for? What did I ever do to you Urban Outfitters? I live in the urban! I like outfits!  Why do the only clothes that seem to fit me come from Chicos? Why has the fashion industry turned me from a hip, cool, totally with it, savvy woman about town into a dowager?

This is unhelpful

This is unhelpful

The only thing worse that sobbing in a Forever 21 changing room is sobbing because you have lied to me, vanity sizing. No one likes to be told they’re being lied to while they’re naked and in a small room.

I should be able to pick up a size 8–for that is what I am–and have it be a size 8, not a circus tent. I mean, I could tattoo “millionairess” on my forehead, but the fine folks at the diamond and Bali vacation store will not be happy when it comes time to run my credit card.  You don’t make me feel better when you put me in a size 2, you make me feel exhaustion and rage.

This is not what a ladies' medium looks like.

This is not what a ladies’ medium looks like.

I don’t shop at the kinds of stores where skinny attendants wait outside and bring you new sizes whenever you want. If I’m standing in front of that full length mirror and you aren’t the right size, it’ll take me half an hour to schlep across the acre of Burlington between the changing room and the Damas section. So stop screwing with me!

I’m going to get dressed now. I do have this a skirt from 2002 in there that has always been honest with me.


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Sexy Oreo Costumes!


Always be looking out for how to look the part.


With just two weeks until ladies show us your tits under the guise of creativity day Halloween, I am reminded that Oreos don’t just dress up on that fun day. Oreos wear costumes every day. Just like that girl in your condo finds just the perfect piece of lingerie to represent Alice in Wonderland, Finding Nemo or a medical professional, Oreos work painstakingly to make sure that their clothes communicate who they are on the inside, too.

Here are three styles of dress befitting an Oreo lifestyle.

  • Basic, classic prep. Thanks to characters like Urkel and Carlton, we get that when a person of color wears plaid, pleats or padded seersucker, they are way more white than not. Nothing says “I definitely didn’t buy I am Not a Human Being” like saddle shoes.
  • Hipster. Hipsters get a lot of flack for looking like bizzarely arrogant homeless people, but they do read Amy Sedaris, love Sarah Silverman and tout individuality by dressing just like all the other hipsters. This makes them easy to identify and to assimilate into. So get your Oreo pal an Urban Outers gift certificate and get your hobo bag on! Show up at your fave large independent coffee shop with your skinny jeans and ironically thick glasses and no one will dare ask you if you saw the Raiders play that weekend.
  • Steampunk. My favorite of this list! Steampunk embraces non-RBP subjects like science and Britain and combines them with neat metal-based fashions. A few pairs of fettish-looking goggles, tiny top hat, a black tutu and and your signed copy of The Anubis Gate and you’re all set!

What other fashions do you think are good for Oreos? Any fashion trends you’ve tried to get on board with and either had massive success or a major fail? Let us know!


Though I was joking about sexy Nemo, didn't you?