Life of the Lintee Bean

Yes, I went back – only a year and a half later, I was back!

Same goal – I wanted a business suit.  Obviously, I didn’t learn my lesson last time.  I still have the two suits I purchased then – hanging in my closet, tags still dangling.  They were snug when I bought them, and I’m afraid if I actually needed to wear them, I’d sit down and they’d explode at the seams, spilling fat and cellulite everywhere.

Knowing after-Christmas sales were in full force, I decided to venture to Macy’s once again. I passed through the doors to discover I’d entered the cosmetics department – the overpowering aroma of every cologne and perfume imaginable hit me like a fog.  I tried to breathe shallowly as I made my way to the escalators and the store directory.  Finding the directory, I learned women’s apparel was on floors 3, 4, and 5.  Couldn’t they narrow that down a bit?  Do I really have to search three floors, each the size of a city block, in order to find the area I seek?

As I started ascending escalators, I discovered if I watched the floors of the atrium, I could narrow it down to a single floor – the fifth.  Apparently overweight women need to be punished by being on the top-most floor of women’s apparel.  I eventually reach the fifth floor to find myself in baby clothes.  Fantastic – maybe people will assume I’m overweight because I’m pregnant.

Finding my way out of baby clothes puts me in intimate apparel.  I get distracted, hoping to find some Cuddle Duds (awesome long underwear) on sale – no luck, and I manage to get turned around and now I’m lost.  I seem to be back in baby clothes, and a few turns later, I’m in what appear to be larger women’s clothing… but something doesn’t seem right.  I’m looking at the options when a kind sales lady takes pity on me and asks what I’m looking for.  “Plus sizes?” I say, hopefully.  “Oh”, she replies, “you’re in maternity.  I thought you looked lost.”  She gave directions and I was off again.

I finally make it to women’s 14 to 24.  Now, I need to find suits.  I searched and searched.  Apparently, larger women need only bright-colored t-shirts with “PHAT” written in rhinestones, ugly sweaters, and suits appropriate only if your child is getting married.  I’m looking for a business suit, not a shiny silver suit with embroidered embellishment.

I finally find a few suits that aren’t obviously hideous.  I VASTLY prefer pants to skirts, but I pick up one skirt suit to have a decent number to try on.  I head to the dreaded fitting rooms and start putting them on.  They’re HORRIBLE.  Seriously, they all look like I borrowed my father’s suit.  One actually makes me appear to have “man parts”, to put it delicately.  The pants are way too long, and they emphasize my bulbous belly.  The blazers all make me look like an under-tall linebacker.  None of them work, remotely.

I venture back out and start searching again – thinking what I need is some magical Plus Petite combination garment.  I search Petites, all too small.  I search a small corner of women’s I missed – way in the back.  I find it.  ONE blazer sized Petite Plus and matching trousers!!!  I take my find to the fitting room… the pants aren’t BAD!  I don’t love elastic in the waistband, but hey, if I keep a blazer on, no one will see the waistband, right?  The blazer isn’t as promising.  The designer assumed my breasts were MUCH larger than they are – and that I had no waist.  Not sure about where the waist hits me, either.  Also, the suit is unfortunately 41% wool.  I’m allergic to wool, and the suit is rather scratchy.   It’s lined, so I could tolerate it as long as I wear a shirt with a collar, tucked in… but of course this ONE suit is not on sale, and it’s a lot of money to spend on something that I’m not particularly keen on.

I leave Macy’s empty-handed… eventually, after finding the down escalator out-of-order and being forced to wander lost on the second floor for some time.

Maybe I can crochet myself a suit..