I get that you’re an evil entity and also behind most of the legislation that keeps the minimum wage at well-below poverty level. Got it. You’re also the only place that I can ever hope to find Lee Riders, which are jeans that are (a) bootcut (Gen Z has one thing right, and that is skinny jeans are OVER), (b) petite, (c) not so long that I need to hack eight inches off the bottom just to not look like Itty Bitty Short-Legs Boo Boo the Clown, and (d) affordable. That’s literally the only reason I keep giving your evil ass my hard-earned money.
But, y’all. Check ya damn sizes. Last month, I bought two pairs of Lee Riders in twelve petite. One is the correct size. One (which I’m wearing because the others need washed) is more like a 10P, if not an 8P. This is not comfortable for me at all.
Now, I am taking a couple of things into account. Like, I’m currently two days into shark week, and therefore bloated like this long-dead humpback whale some sailors spotted in the Pacific a few years ago. Also, women generally do not have flat stomachs, because the uterus tends to lean forward and press against the lower stomach muscles, which creates a pouch. All of that, I understand and accept. I also accept that I am five feet tall and about thirty-five pounds overweight, and I also accept that it shows.
What I do NOT accept is that I bought two pairs of pants, from the same brand, same store, and same size, and one is that much smaller than the other. Both pants were marked 12P. Only one is a 12P.
And this is not the first time this has happened, either. Last year, I ordered three pairs of Lee Riders online, 12 regular (online Hell Mart doesn’t carry 12P, for some reason), and again, one pair was clearly an 8 or a 6.
It’s not that they’re expensive jeans; they’re only about $20 a pair, and because I do not have a thigh gap, I don’t mind them being cheap. My thighs are going to rub through them in about three months anyway. It’s that if I’m spending $40 or $60 on my clothes, I expect them to be a certain size, and to fit properly. Or as close to properly as they can without being tailored, since ain’t nobody got time or money for that.
Just. People who decide the sizing of womens’ clothing. Why do you have to torture us by making two pieces of clothing that are supposedly the same size, from the same brand, same store, actually drastically different sizes? Isn’t torturing us by making “12” a completely arbitrary number throughout fashion enough?
(Yes, I know the answer to all of these is “to make you feel fat and keep the diet industry in business.” I’m still pissed off about it. And I need some goddamn ibuprofen.)