I like to cut the size tags off my new clothes. Occasionally it is because they are itchy, but that's not the only reason. What if someone saw the tag and knew what size I wear? Some numbers are not meant to be shared.
What I will never understand is why men's jeans come with exterior tags that show waist and length for all to see. Men don't seem to care that we can see that they are a 38/30, 30/38, or 36/31. The day I wear pants with my size advertised is the day the North and South Poles exchange places, which I am told will one day happen, but not in my lifetime.
Europeans have it all wrong. We refused to go metric. We just said no. What woman wants to walk into a store and say she needs a strappy little black sandal in size 38, or an evening dress in size 44? Isn't it bad enough that anything above a size 12 is considered a "plus" size?
Shopping for a wedding gown, girls? Prepare to order it two sizes bigger than your normal. This makes getting engaged the fastest weight gain you'll ever experience. Bridal gown samples all seem to be size 10, and they fit perfectly - on a size six figure. In case that leaves any of your self esteem intact, there are still the three sided mirrors watching your every move.
There is some hope for those of us who feel size-challenged. The Chico's chain has a fantastic size range - 1, 2, and 3. I can march right in there and announce with confidence that I need a size 3 with not one iota of embarassment. The fact that I have yet to find anything that fits both me and my budget is not Chico's fault. And I will keep hoping that their forward-thinking spreads far and wide. Just in case I do.
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