Wouldn't it be nice if one morning I could wake up and not think about what I'm going to eat throughout the day? Or just exactly how much time I can devote to getting the maximum workout? Or how in the world am I going to have the time to workout, go to the store, do everything that needs done at the house, and still have time to cook two different but equally healthy dinners?
Wouldn't it be nice to go to the mall with friends and be able to go in any shop and find clothes that fit? What would it be like not to have to shop exclusively in the "plus" or "women's" or the absolute worst "extended" sizes? I would like to be able to go shopping with my friends and come home with more than a purse or shoes or makeup. Those things are lovely, yes, but I shouldn't have to be reduced to buying my clothes online and having them come to my house in unmarked wrappers like fricken' porn. Although come to think of it the porn wouldn't be nearly as embarrassing as some of the sized I've let myself be resigned to in the past.
Wouldn't it be nice to not be the fat friend? The funny one? The one with such a pretty face? Wouldn't it be nice, at least just once, to be the hot one?
Mostly I wonder what it would be like not to wonder these things. What if my weight were not an issue? What will happen when I actually make my goal weight? Wouldn't it be nice if we could celebrate our accomplishments instead of zeroing in on our shortcomings?
Showing posts with label plus sized clothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plus sized clothing. Show all posts
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Third Ring of Hell
Let me just start this post by saying that I love love love to shop! Could shop all day. I'm a firm believer in retail therapy to cure what ails you. My favorite vice is things for my home. A nice vase, a lamp, some beautiful drapes - how exciting. But now it's time to dress, not my nest, but myself. I seem to have put it off way too long.
I have skated by on too big jackets and shirts, dryer shrunk jeans, and an impressive repetoir of yoga pants. Now my 10th Anniversary of being married to Hubby is coming up and he is taking me on a short trip to celebrate. (He is really more of a trip giver than a gift giver, which is fine by me. : ) ) The down side to this whole thing is that I will need to pack a suitcase. CRAP! As my sister-in-law will tell you, I will put off packing my suitcase for any trip until it is practically time to pull out of the driveway. And I always forget something. Thank goodness there's a WalMart on every corner now.
The problem now is not so much that I don't want to pack, but that I really have nothing to pack. I seriously have like one pair of white pants that I love! and a couple of much loved and much worn sun dresses. This does not a summer vacation wardrobe make.
Add to that the fact that my mother has decided to come andkidnap take my kids to her house for a fun-filled week at Gran's. It's like the universe is telling me, "Go buy new clothes. You have no excuse."
And you should neeeevvver ignore the universe. So I suppose I will take myself to the mall. CRAP! Oh well, there's always Sephora!
I have skated by on too big jackets and shirts, dryer shrunk jeans, and an impressive repetoir of yoga pants. Now my 10th Anniversary of being married to Hubby is coming up and he is taking me on a short trip to celebrate. (He is really more of a trip giver than a gift giver, which is fine by me. : ) ) The down side to this whole thing is that I will need to pack a suitcase. CRAP! As my sister-in-law will tell you, I will put off packing my suitcase for any trip until it is practically time to pull out of the driveway. And I always forget something. Thank goodness there's a WalMart on every corner now.
The problem now is not so much that I don't want to pack, but that I really have nothing to pack. I seriously have like one pair of white pants that I love! and a couple of much loved and much worn sun dresses. This does not a summer vacation wardrobe make.
Add to that the fact that my mother has decided to come and
And you should neeeevvver ignore the universe. So I suppose I will take myself to the mall. CRAP! Oh well, there's always Sephora!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Seriously!?!?
OK, I know I've bitched about this before, but it's kind of a big deal and well, it just doesn't stop making me mad. Skinny jeans! And gladiator sandals!
Are you kidding me? I suppose they are cute - in a hungry sort of way. But if you weigh more than, oh I don't know, 100 pounds you can't possibly hope to pull off the skinny jeans. Gladiator sandals are a slightly different animal in that you don't necessarily have to be a certain size to wear them. Other than the fact that you probably shouldn't have cankles, which of course leaves me out. And as any big girl knows the goal is to make your legs look longer and leaner and cutting them off visually at the ankle is probably not the best way to do that.
So there you go. Skinny jeans and gladiator sandals can suck it. The fashion police really should just declare that sausage casings are going to be the new must have for fall. It would be less cruel.
Are you kidding me? I suppose they are cute - in a hungry sort of way. But if you weigh more than, oh I don't know, 100 pounds you can't possibly hope to pull off the skinny jeans. Gladiator sandals are a slightly different animal in that you don't necessarily have to be a certain size to wear them. Other than the fact that you probably shouldn't have cankles, which of course leaves me out. And as any big girl knows the goal is to make your legs look longer and leaner and cutting them off visually at the ankle is probably not the best way to do that.
So there you go. Skinny jeans and gladiator sandals can suck it. The fashion police really should just declare that sausage casings are going to be the new must have for fall. It would be less cruel.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Skinny Bitches part 2
Oh my god, they are everywhere! No matter where I look or which way I turn there is a skinny bitch standing there to try an make me feel bad about myself. Two years ago their arsenal of skinny jeans and teeny bra straps would have sent me sailing straight for the nearest ice cream stand. But not today. Somewhere along the way I have managed to turn all that intimidation into pure unadulterated hatred.
I don't hate all thin women. I even get testy when someone says the oft' repeated "real women have curves" Well, as it happens I know plenty of strong, healthy, beautiful, REAL women who just happen not to have curves. But we are not talking about them.
We are talking about the chain smoking, view from above their noses, red bull & vodka, SKINNY BITCHES.
"I don't know what it is, I can eat all I want to and never gain any weight!" Really? And you felt the need to tell me this why. . .? Oh, yeah - now I see. I'm supposed to verbally acknowledge your physical superiority. Bite me, slim!
And skinny jeans - seriously. Don't even get me started. I recognize that there are many different body types and that not all bodies can wear all fashion. But, come on. The only women that can wear skinny jeans (and look good) are super-model tall and twice as skinny. Out of my large group of friends I can think of only one woman who can authentically rock a pair of skinny jeans.
And speaking of fashion. . .
Raise your hand if you've ever gone shopping and been really excited to run into a sale only to realize that the only size left in the item you want is an XS. Wake up fashion industry and department store buyers! Wouldn't it stand to reason that if you consistently have only XS sizes left over and all the XL and L fly off the shelves before they barely get hung up that maybe, just perhaps, you should order more XL and L and let the XS fend for themselves. They'll be OK - they have skinny jeans.
I don't hate all thin women. I even get testy when someone says the oft' repeated "real women have curves" Well, as it happens I know plenty of strong, healthy, beautiful, REAL women who just happen not to have curves. But we are not talking about them.
We are talking about the chain smoking, view from above their noses, red bull & vodka, SKINNY BITCHES.
"I don't know what it is, I can eat all I want to and never gain any weight!" Really? And you felt the need to tell me this why. . .? Oh, yeah - now I see. I'm supposed to verbally acknowledge your physical superiority. Bite me, slim!
And skinny jeans - seriously. Don't even get me started. I recognize that there are many different body types and that not all bodies can wear all fashion. But, come on. The only women that can wear skinny jeans (and look good) are super-model tall and twice as skinny. Out of my large group of friends I can think of only one woman who can authentically rock a pair of skinny jeans.
And speaking of fashion. . .
Raise your hand if you've ever gone shopping and been really excited to run into a sale only to realize that the only size left in the item you want is an XS. Wake up fashion industry and department store buyers! Wouldn't it stand to reason that if you consistently have only XS sizes left over and all the XL and L fly off the shelves before they barely get hung up that maybe, just perhaps, you should order more XL and L and let the XS fend for themselves. They'll be OK - they have skinny jeans.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Back With a Book Review
I just read this book - Hungry by Crystal Renn - and I give it a B+. It was a really good read and the only reason I didn't give it an A is because while Miss Renn is clearly educated this is not a book I would read just for shear enjoyment.
Hungry is the story of Crystal Renn the worlds most successful plus size model, though plus size is certainly a relative term. Miss Renn is a size 12. If you have opened a magazine lately or shopped for plus size clothing you have seen her. She is the girl in the American Cancer Society add shot form the back, beautifully draped in a red silk, showing off her womanly curves. She is also the unofficial face of Lane Bryant. The beautiful dark haired dark eyes one who looks like she's about 7 feet tall.
In truth Miss Renn is 5'11" and in her book she describes how at the age of 14/15 she starved her body in order to reach 95lbs and a size 00 on that 5'11" frame. 95lbs! Size 00! 5'11"! No wonder she was hungry. The author describes her spiral into deliberate anorexia as both shameful and paradoxically empowering. She would be proud of herself for only having an apple and a piece of gum on certain days. During her "straight size" modeling days Miss Renn subsisted on little more than Diet Coke and would work out for 6 hours a day splitting her time between two gyms so the staff would not know how dangerous her lifestyle had become.
The modeling industry, of course, did not care; saying to Miss Renn when she reached over 100 lbs once that her thighs were too fat. Too fat??? Are you kidding me? I'm surprised she could even walk around on those little twigs, much less workout for 6 hours a day. I got your thighs right here.
The ironic thing was that even after all that hard work and clearly unhealthy lifestyle Miss Renn's modeling career never really took off. Finally at age 18 she had had enough. She signed with the plus friendly Ford Modeling Agency and began to eat, even getting up to a size 16 before settling on a healthy 12.
Miss Renn is very clear on the fact that every woman has a healthy weight range and that it may be different for every woman. She is also aware that she is a fashion model and not a doctor or nutritionist. She does however offer observations on her own life and those of other models in her acquaintance. She states, for example, that she has a certain straight size model friend, who is naturally thin (a size 2, I think) and that while this woman certainly eats healthy and doesn't indulge in a lot of sweets or alcohol, she doesn't necessarily "diet". the question raised is, "Why can't all different kinds of women be considered beautiful?" Who decided that tall and thin was the standard of beauty? Are we really saying that heroin-chic Kate Moss is more beautiful than the woman next door? I'm not one of these "real women have curves" girls, because the fact is, not all women do and does that make them less of a woman? My mother is a petite size 4 with "barely A" boobs (I think I was adopted) and she is no less a beautiful woman than my plus size, super stylish, friend Mary. Or myself for that matter with my G boobs.
Miss Renn's book tells of her struggle to find her own personal healthy weight and how once she did she finally became successful in her career. Of course we are not all super-models. But we are all struggling to find our own ideal weight.
It just so happens that size 12 is my personal goal right now. Of course I'm a little south of 5'11", but heck no body's asked me to strip it all off and pose for a breast cancer ad either. Well, at least not yet.
Hungry is the story of Crystal Renn the worlds most successful plus size model, though plus size is certainly a relative term. Miss Renn is a size 12. If you have opened a magazine lately or shopped for plus size clothing you have seen her. She is the girl in the American Cancer Society add shot form the back, beautifully draped in a red silk, showing off her womanly curves. She is also the unofficial face of Lane Bryant. The beautiful dark haired dark eyes one who looks like she's about 7 feet tall.
In truth Miss Renn is 5'11" and in her book she describes how at the age of 14/15 she starved her body in order to reach 95lbs and a size 00 on that 5'11" frame. 95lbs! Size 00! 5'11"! No wonder she was hungry. The author describes her spiral into deliberate anorexia as both shameful and paradoxically empowering. She would be proud of herself for only having an apple and a piece of gum on certain days. During her "straight size" modeling days Miss Renn subsisted on little more than Diet Coke and would work out for 6 hours a day splitting her time between two gyms so the staff would not know how dangerous her lifestyle had become.
The modeling industry, of course, did not care; saying to Miss Renn when she reached over 100 lbs once that her thighs were too fat. Too fat??? Are you kidding me? I'm surprised she could even walk around on those little twigs, much less workout for 6 hours a day. I got your thighs right here.
The ironic thing was that even after all that hard work and clearly unhealthy lifestyle Miss Renn's modeling career never really took off. Finally at age 18 she had had enough. She signed with the plus friendly Ford Modeling Agency and began to eat, even getting up to a size 16 before settling on a healthy 12.
Miss Renn is very clear on the fact that every woman has a healthy weight range and that it may be different for every woman. She is also aware that she is a fashion model and not a doctor or nutritionist. She does however offer observations on her own life and those of other models in her acquaintance. She states, for example, that she has a certain straight size model friend, who is naturally thin (a size 2, I think) and that while this woman certainly eats healthy and doesn't indulge in a lot of sweets or alcohol, she doesn't necessarily "diet". the question raised is, "Why can't all different kinds of women be considered beautiful?" Who decided that tall and thin was the standard of beauty? Are we really saying that heroin-chic Kate Moss is more beautiful than the woman next door? I'm not one of these "real women have curves" girls, because the fact is, not all women do and does that make them less of a woman? My mother is a petite size 4 with "barely A" boobs (I think I was adopted) and she is no less a beautiful woman than my plus size, super stylish, friend Mary. Or myself for that matter with my G boobs.
Miss Renn's book tells of her struggle to find her own personal healthy weight and how once she did she finally became successful in her career. Of course we are not all super-models. But we are all struggling to find our own ideal weight.
It just so happens that size 12 is my personal goal right now. Of course I'm a little south of 5'11", but heck no body's asked me to strip it all off and pose for a breast cancer ad either. Well, at least not yet.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Fat Girl Skinny Jeans
Today it happened. I had heard something like this could be possible if one was willing to put forth the effort. I had never been too sure. But today - today it happened. I fit into a smaller size jeans.
Not just any jeans, the smallest sized jeans the big girl store makes. Now, here's where it gets a little confusing. Lane Bryant, my big girl store of choice, used to size everything in the traditional 14/16, 18/20, 22/24 and so on and so forth. At the time I wore a 18/20. Occasionally I could squeeze into a 16, if it was independantly sized and I didn't care about breathing. But then they had to go change it. And confuse the hell out of it along the way.
Now instead of soul crushing 16s and 18s and even 20 somethings on our tags we are greeted by 1, 2, 3, & 4 up to 7. This is evidently supposed to delude us into thinking that we are smaller than we actually are. Does it work? Of course it does! Never in my adult life have I been a 3. Once in ninth grade I got into a 5, but I had mono. I usually hovered around a 10/12 in high school. I reached my body nirvana my freshman year of college. Instead of gaining the freshman 15, I actually managed to lose it. I know, I hated me too. My point is that I had never been a 3 and now I was one at my heaviest I had ever been in my life.
But before you get too excited it's important to know that you can't just be a 1 or a 2 or even a 7. You have to know if you are a yellow, red, or blue. What the hell is this, kindergarten? I mean seriously, what difference can it make? Evidently I was wrong yet again and it makes a big fat difference - so to speak.
Plus sized jeans designers, formerly the mom-jeans queens, have apparently woken up to the fact that the average American woman wears a size 14. Never mind what this says about the state of American health, but what does it say about the bottom dollar? It only took them, like a million years to figure out that just because a woman is big doesn't mean she wants to dress like a grandma. And no woman's body is built like any other woman's body. They call their new sizing system Right Fit for obvious reasons. It begs the question - what took you so long? And BTW, no self-respecting grandma of mine would be caught dead in a mom jean. My mamaw can rock a boot cut like nobody's business. She does, however, draw the line at low-cut. She is a grandma after all.
But back to the point hand. Yellows are for the ladies with minimal curves. The proverbial rectangles. No ass whatsoever. Clearly, these jeans are not for me.
Next is the Reds. These are the average, middle of the road, most women fit these, catagory. Also, not me
No, I fall into the Blue catagory. Blues are for the girls with the big ol' bidonka-donks. A little junk in the trunk. I like big butts and I cannot lie . . . you get the idea. Yes, I wear the Blue. The curviest jeans that the curvy girl store makes. When they implemented this change I morphed from 18/20 into Blue 3. And that was fine with me. At the time.
Then we decided we were going to Vegas and I decided to lose a few. Like 10 or 15 pounds off my big ass was going to make a big difference. Although it was a high point of my life when I was mistaken for Ann Wilson in the MGM casino. Heart was playing the next night and Ihad recently dyed my hair black with red streaks, so it was not an unreasonable comparason. Still I was excited.
But then it got to be serious. I was going to be turning 30. Something had to be done. And it was. As you know I have been going at it diligently for nine months now. And my size 2 jeans (I just like to say it out loud. Size 2!) were getting a little loose. Can you imagine?
So today I was at Lane Bryant and saw these jeans. I had my kids with me so I couldn't really try anything on, but still I had a coupon and I couldn't pass them up. So I bought them and brought them home with the full expectation of trying them on in the privacy of my own bathroom and taking them right back to the store tomorrow. But lo and behold, they fit. And not just fit, they really fit. I could breath and everything. And the best part is they are a . . . drumroll please . . . size 1. Whoo hooo!!!! Look at me go. I am one size away from NOT having that dreaded W behind the size on my clothes.
So as it stands now, I am at the 214/215 (depending on the day) pound mark. My birhtday is in exactly three months. I would like to be below 200 by then. A point I have not been since before my first child was born. Never mind that I was way below 200 at 145, but that's another story. I have made peace with the fact that I will never be 145 again. But I can guaran - damn - tee you that I will not be in the big girl jeans again. We finally got rid of one W now it's time for me to shed another.
Not just any jeans, the smallest sized jeans the big girl store makes. Now, here's where it gets a little confusing. Lane Bryant, my big girl store of choice, used to size everything in the traditional 14/16, 18/20, 22/24 and so on and so forth. At the time I wore a 18/20. Occasionally I could squeeze into a 16, if it was independantly sized and I didn't care about breathing. But then they had to go change it. And confuse the hell out of it along the way.
Now instead of soul crushing 16s and 18s and even 20 somethings on our tags we are greeted by 1, 2, 3, & 4 up to 7. This is evidently supposed to delude us into thinking that we are smaller than we actually are. Does it work? Of course it does! Never in my adult life have I been a 3. Once in ninth grade I got into a 5, but I had mono. I usually hovered around a 10/12 in high school. I reached my body nirvana my freshman year of college. Instead of gaining the freshman 15, I actually managed to lose it. I know, I hated me too. My point is that I had never been a 3 and now I was one at my heaviest I had ever been in my life.
But before you get too excited it's important to know that you can't just be a 1 or a 2 or even a 7. You have to know if you are a yellow, red, or blue. What the hell is this, kindergarten? I mean seriously, what difference can it make? Evidently I was wrong yet again and it makes a big fat difference - so to speak.
Plus sized jeans designers, formerly the mom-jeans queens, have apparently woken up to the fact that the average American woman wears a size 14. Never mind what this says about the state of American health, but what does it say about the bottom dollar? It only took them, like a million years to figure out that just because a woman is big doesn't mean she wants to dress like a grandma. And no woman's body is built like any other woman's body. They call their new sizing system Right Fit for obvious reasons. It begs the question - what took you so long? And BTW, no self-respecting grandma of mine would be caught dead in a mom jean. My mamaw can rock a boot cut like nobody's business. She does, however, draw the line at low-cut. She is a grandma after all.
But back to the point hand. Yellows are for the ladies with minimal curves. The proverbial rectangles. No ass whatsoever. Clearly, these jeans are not for me.
Next is the Reds. These are the average, middle of the road, most women fit these, catagory. Also, not me
No, I fall into the Blue catagory. Blues are for the girls with the big ol' bidonka-donks. A little junk in the trunk. I like big butts and I cannot lie . . . you get the idea. Yes, I wear the Blue. The curviest jeans that the curvy girl store makes. When they implemented this change I morphed from 18/20 into Blue 3. And that was fine with me. At the time.
Then we decided we were going to Vegas and I decided to lose a few. Like 10 or 15 pounds off my big ass was going to make a big difference. Although it was a high point of my life when I was mistaken for Ann Wilson in the MGM casino. Heart was playing the next night and Ihad recently dyed my hair black with red streaks, so it was not an unreasonable comparason. Still I was excited.
But then it got to be serious. I was going to be turning 30. Something had to be done. And it was. As you know I have been going at it diligently for nine months now. And my size 2 jeans (I just like to say it out loud. Size 2!) were getting a little loose. Can you imagine?
So today I was at Lane Bryant and saw these jeans. I had my kids with me so I couldn't really try anything on, but still I had a coupon and I couldn't pass them up. So I bought them and brought them home with the full expectation of trying them on in the privacy of my own bathroom and taking them right back to the store tomorrow. But lo and behold, they fit. And not just fit, they really fit. I could breath and everything. And the best part is they are a . . . drumroll please . . . size 1. Whoo hooo!!!! Look at me go. I am one size away from NOT having that dreaded W behind the size on my clothes.
So as it stands now, I am at the 214/215 (depending on the day) pound mark. My birhtday is in exactly three months. I would like to be below 200 by then. A point I have not been since before my first child was born. Never mind that I was way below 200 at 145, but that's another story. I have made peace with the fact that I will never be 145 again. But I can guaran - damn - tee you that I will not be in the big girl jeans again. We finally got rid of one W now it's time for me to shed another.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My Moby Dick
It is summer now. The time that all fat girls dread. The time of bathing suits and tank tops and sundresses that when applied to anyone over a size 4 can only be described as a mu mu. But none of that seems quite as important to me this year. This year I am on a quest for the perfect pair of white pants.
Yes, I know, black is more slimming. Even a nice navy blue would be more flattering. But it's summer, damn it; and I've lost 20lbs and I deserve a good looking pair of white pants! I know they're out there. My friend Mary (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) always manages to have the cutest wardrobe, white pants included, no matter how big her size. So I am convinced they can be found. I just have a few requirements.
They have to fit well. Sounds like a no-brainer, right? You would think so. But the more pants I have tried on, the more I have come to know that just because they fit, doesn't mean they fit 'well'. A winter (let's be honest- a few winters) of wearing elastic waist pants have spoiled me.
Second they have to not be denim - back to the fits well part. Besides what's the point of having cool summer pants if I'm just going to roast in them? But they also can't be so thin that you can see my Spanx through them.
And last, they have to not cost a fortune. Now there are some things in the fashion world that I am willing to shell out some scratch for. Good shoes, a fine purse, the perfect red, but not too red, lip gloss. But white pants is not one of those things. At least not this year. Now, maybe I am deluding myself, but I feel like I won't be fitting into these pants (and not in a bad way) next summer, so why should I pay a lot for them?
So to review, I want good fitting pants that are of a good fabric and that don't cost a fortune and also manage not to make me look like a marshmallow. Now that I think about it, these pants may not actually exist. But I am determined to try on every pair I can until I am convinced otherwise. I will either find them or die trying.
Well, maybe the dying part is a little extreme. How about this? I will either find them or get really pissed off and make everyone around me suffer while I'm trying. Yeah, that sounds more like it.
p.s. Here's a head scratcher for ya. I just ordered the perfect summer shirt from Old Navy. It was loose and flowey. It was the perfect ocean blue/green color. (Would look awesome with aforesaid white pants.) But it arrived on the big brown truck and when I opened it to try it on - it was completely backless. What the hell. Who the crap makes a shirt in a size 16 that you can't wear a bra with? Ass holes. Damn you, modelquins!
Yes, I know, black is more slimming. Even a nice navy blue would be more flattering. But it's summer, damn it; and I've lost 20lbs and I deserve a good looking pair of white pants! I know they're out there. My friend Mary (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) always manages to have the cutest wardrobe, white pants included, no matter how big her size. So I am convinced they can be found. I just have a few requirements.
They have to fit well. Sounds like a no-brainer, right? You would think so. But the more pants I have tried on, the more I have come to know that just because they fit, doesn't mean they fit 'well'. A winter (let's be honest- a few winters) of wearing elastic waist pants have spoiled me.
Second they have to not be denim - back to the fits well part. Besides what's the point of having cool summer pants if I'm just going to roast in them? But they also can't be so thin that you can see my Spanx through them.
And last, they have to not cost a fortune. Now there are some things in the fashion world that I am willing to shell out some scratch for. Good shoes, a fine purse, the perfect red, but not too red, lip gloss. But white pants is not one of those things. At least not this year. Now, maybe I am deluding myself, but I feel like I won't be fitting into these pants (and not in a bad way) next summer, so why should I pay a lot for them?
So to review, I want good fitting pants that are of a good fabric and that don't cost a fortune and also manage not to make me look like a marshmallow. Now that I think about it, these pants may not actually exist. But I am determined to try on every pair I can until I am convinced otherwise. I will either find them or die trying.
Well, maybe the dying part is a little extreme. How about this? I will either find them or get really pissed off and make everyone around me suffer while I'm trying. Yeah, that sounds more like it.
p.s. Here's a head scratcher for ya. I just ordered the perfect summer shirt from Old Navy. It was loose and flowey. It was the perfect ocean blue/green color. (Would look awesome with aforesaid white pants.) But it arrived on the big brown truck and when I opened it to try it on - it was completely backless. What the hell. Who the crap makes a shirt in a size 16 that you can't wear a bra with? Ass holes. Damn you, modelquins!
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