I needed* a new spring mac as I didn’t think my ‘slightly beaten up probably still smells of Fireball from Nashville’ denim jacket would quite cut it at my important London meetings tomorrow.
I decided to be brave and pop into GAP as I’d clocked a gorgeous short trench on the website and figured I could try it on and maybe one day slim down enough to be able to button it up and belt it and for the time being just rock the ‘no, it’s supposed to be undone, honest’ look.
Well knock me down with a feather it only flipping well fit… In the XL rather than the XXL I tried on first which totally swamped me. I could button it up, the sleeves were long enough, it was actually quite flattering, we were firing on all cylinders and I was happy to call it a success.
Then I clocked the massive red ‘SALE’ signs all over the place. Literally ALL over the place. I’d been so nervous about going in there to try and fit myself into their clothes without getting stuck in something, having to leave empty handed and disheartened due to large arse, or being laughed out of the door that I’d missed them all.
A little mooch through the sale rails and suddenly I had an armful of clothes and was bearing down on the tills thinking ‘I popped in for ONE THING’ swiftly followed by ‘but they’re sooooo pretty and yes I know I’ve got three maxi dresses but clearly I’m going to get so much wear out of them and anyway THEY’RE ON SALE AND THEY FIT’. Inside I was positively cartwheeling to the cashier.
When I was a teenager the one thing I desperately wanted (other than a smaller arse or a boyfriend OBVS) was a GAP t-shirt like everyone had. The problem being that I was too fat and had to make do with ‘close but no cigar’ t-shirts that may as well have had GIP written across the front because whichever way you looked at it they just weren’t right.
Fast forward to today and 33 year old me is now the proud owner of a maroon and white logo’d to the maximum GAP v-neck t-shirt and I love it. Sure I’ll only wear it in bed but each time I pull it over my head, teenage me will be shrieking in delight. I came home weighed down by bags but happy to find the most ginormous parcel on the table. The *ahem* seven dresses I’d ordered from Lindy Bop and clearly forgotten about. Oops.