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I was shopping today for some jeans and some shorts.  I went to many different stores and couldn’t find anything.  My husband will never complain about me being a shopaholic because I don’t buy something unless I really want it and it’s within the price range I want.  Anyway, I’ve put on some pounds so none of my shorts and capris are fitting me the same.  The weather is getting hot again so I needed to get some stuff.

After about 3 hours of looking at clothes, trying them on and looking some more, I bought a total of 2 shirts.  I didn’t mind so much until I realized nothing was fitting me right-too big in some parts, too small in others.  Apparently I didn’t feel chunky enough so Marshall’s decided to help me along with that.  It was one of the last stores I went into so I already walked in with contempt towards the place because it’s really the store’s fault that nothing I tried on in the previous 2 1/2 hours fit. (insert sigh here)

There was a lot of great stuff that caught my eye.  I noticed most of their clothes ran XS, S, M, L and XL instead of the dreaded numbers ranging from anorexic..oh…I mean zero to fourteen.  While I was looking through one section of clothes I noticed everything I was looking at was XS which is obviously the wrong section for me-in shirts I wear an XL most of the time.  I carry all my weight in my mid section and back so I like my clothes to be a little loose.

Back to my point.  I looked around to see if there were dividers to differentiate the sizes and there were.  I quickly noticed in addition to the dividers their sizes are nicely color coded.  I looked around and finally saw the XL section and immediately noticed what color it was.  I found myself rolling my eyes and saying aloud, “Thaaaaanks.” The woman in the next row just looked up at me and then looked around trying to see who I was talking to.  I said, “Me.  I’m talking to me.”  She gave me a nod, moved her eyes back down to the clothes and kept sifting through them like I never said anything.  She knew she didn’t want none of this.

I really stood there for a minute staring at the colors of the sizes.  XS was a bright and happy shade of sunshine yellow.  S was a beautiful pastel baby blue color.  M was a vibrant red.  L was a dark murky purple.  Finally,  my size XL was the color of death, black.

Black?  Really?

Why couldn’t we be a green for “Go ahead and eat another big mac…you’ll still look good in this shirt guuurl.”  Or why couldn’t it be a lovely shade of orange for “Go ahead and wear this bright orange blouse chunky, people will see you a mile away.”  Even white would have been great for “I’m at peace with my XL wearing self.”

It’s a well known fact colors have different meanings.  The psych major in me wonders how the colors were chosen.  Of course you do know if I was a size XS I wouldn’t have noticed the colors.  I would have either been too damn happy to notice or too damn hungry to care.