I had intentions of writing a post about our mad, merry, lusty month of May.  However, I’m on a bit of a soapbox on a subject near and dear. So it will have to wait another week.

My niece, Caitlin, is getting married in late June.  It’s going to be a lovely occasion which we are all excited about.  Such a stellar event in the lives of our family requires certain parameters — one of my main ones being the search for the proper, new dress. A dress that is fitting for the outdoors in late June in Georgia and flattering.

It was a regular Thursday — yoga and weigh-in, followed by a Target run.  A trip to Target also meant an after-yoga Starbucks skinny latte treat.  A Ross is beside the Target and on my list as one of the top places to search for a dress,  so I decided I’d spend a little time shopping.

It felt like I tried on at least 50 dresses as I stared at my laughable reflection time and again in the mirror.  (Yes, I know the reality was likely half that number.)  But I made so many trips to the fitting room that I developed a short-term relationship with the salesperson stationed there.

Apparently, one of the current hot styles in women’s dresses is an empire waistline.  My body is not built to be flattered by an empire waist.  I have..um.. a couple of reasons for this.  Those reasons have existed since I was a teenager, and I haven’t been able to wear smaller than an XL shirt since that time for those reasons.

I am, as it was termed in the Jane Russell pin-up days, a full-figured gal.  A buxom wench.  As we like to term it nowadays,  a curvy gal.  My shirt size is followed by an X and my dress size will never be in single digits.  Button-down shirts are one of the banes of my existence.  Either everything fits except the middle button or if the middle button fits properly, it’s too big everywhere else. A few months ago, when women on Facebook were doing “Stripper Names” for Breast Cancer Awareness, my name turned out to be Chesty.  Not. Joking.  But fitting.

Besides the proliferation of empire waists, the other choice seemed to be the  sack look.  That doesn’t work for me either. Ruffles, rosettes  and bright colored flower prints look ridiculous on me, not to mention it’s unattractive anyway. It makes me look like I’m dressed up to play Mama from Mama’s Family.  I may be one of the larger girls, but I desire to look as attractive and fashionable as the ladies who’ve been fortunate enough to inherit skeleton genes.  I don’t want to be pushed up even more or hidden under a sack. The styles clothing companies design for plus gals seem to waver between  “Carmen Miranda”, “Sackcloth and Ashes”,  “Grandma”  or  “Hello, Girls!”

Let’s face it, how many of you have ever seen a small-chested woman shopping for clothes for herself in the women’s department?  Nope, didn’t think so.

I’ve lost quite a chunk of weight over the past year – about half of all the pregnancy weight I’ve been struggling to lose for a decade.  It was nice to discover I’ve gone down 2 dress sizes, a size I haven’t seen since I was about 5 months pregnant with my now 16 year old daughter.  The measurement that has decreased the least?  Yeah, I’m still gonna be a buxom wench even when I reach my goal weight.

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