Small, Medium or Large: You're Not What You Eat

A few weeks ago I was doing my bi-monthly charity shop scavenge, looking for pretty things expensive people don’t want anymore. Imagine my delight when I happened across a rather sexy little strapless number from Mango, nestled amidst the flowery skirts and baggy cardigans, for the obscene price of £6. I probably took out about four old ladies in my haste to get to the fitting room. Now, this it-would-be-rude-not-to-buy-it dress had been making friends with the size 10 flowery skirts. It said ‘10’ on the hanger. I was already mentally breathing in in preparation for attempting to wriggle into it. To even the most clueless, unfashionable male in the world, it was blatantly made for size 10-12s.

So I was pretty pissed off that some volunteer had scribbled ‘Large’ on the charity-shop label. ‘Grumble grumble 12 isn’t large grumble grumble how dare they etc etc’ I muttered as I yanked it over my hips and tensed every muscle in my stomach. But it wasn’t a confused elderly shop lady who’d had the audacity to deem anyone wearing this dress as Large – it was flipping Mango. And do you know what? The sodding thing was too small.

On what planet is a dress which is too tight for a size 12 a Large? Obviously one where the magazine industry and the clothing industry go hand-in-hand. When we’re all supposed to applaud Cosmo’s bravery for using a size 14 model, as if such a lady is an abnormal sight, it’s no surprise the not-tiny amongst us are made to feel like lepers. Also, let me explain the dimensions of this dress – it was nipped in like piano-wire at the waist, then ballooned out in Barbie-esque proportions at the chest. If I had the mammaries required to sufficiently fill it out, I’d have a hunchback that would make Quasimodo look like a steel pole. Unless Katie Price bought every single one, I don’t quite know who Mango thought their target audience was. The only person I can imagine designing a dress that way would presumably have had his most intimate female experiences with a blow-up doll, but I’m sure Mango has a ‘no-creep’ policy as stringent as their ‘no-carrying-a-little-bit-of-weight-girls’.

Madness. And it’s the same in so many high-street stores. The day I find something in Zara that’s made for women who don’t go straight up-and-down will be the day cellulite makes it onto the front cover of Cosmopolitan. Only good old Marks and Spencer is doing its bit for the self-confidence of the women of Britain – I’m quite a comfortable size 10 in my crisp Markies shirt. So if every other high street store could stop silently reproaching me with passive-aggressive sizing, that would be fine. I'll start holding my breath...now.