Story Hour With Twiggy

Several years ago, I left everything I knew behind and moved across the country to be with a boy.  A boy that I had met *gasp* on the internet, at a time when that was novel and even a little taboo.  I left my friends, my family, and my home because…well…one of us had to, and it made the most sense for me to be the one to transplant.

I came from a place that really had no “home” NFL team.  I had little to no interest in football, and certainly no favorite team.  I was pretty much the anti-fan.  My football slate was pretty much blank.

I became a resident of a place that does have an NFL team, and these people love their team.  I worked in retail for a couple of years when I first moved here, and it was amazing to see how empty our store was every Sunday afternoon during football season.  Those people who were in the store were talking about “The Game.” 

I remained pretty aloof to the whole thing for about a year.  Then, slowly, I got sucked in.  I started to watch the games with my boyfriend who by then I had decided to marry.  I started to learn the names of the players.  I bought a sweatshirt.  I started to look forward to football season.  Then we moved to the town our team resides in, and I really started to catch the fever. 

8 years later, I love my team.  I love to watch them play, and I HATE to watch them lose (which they do with startling regularity!).  I even like to listen to sports talk radio (shhhh, that’s one of my dirty little secrets!) sometimes.

Anyway, after all these years of being a fan, I had not bought myself a jersey.  This season, I decided it was time.  I decided what number I wanted, and trotted off to the store to get one.  Off I went, happy as a clam.  I am a bit of a cheap skate, so this was a major binge for me even though I wasn’t buying one of those cool authentic ones.  Awesome jersey ownership would take me yet another step farther into football fandom.

Now, I know that jerseys made for women do exist, but let’s face it.  Clothing made for normal women doesn’t fit me very well.  Even the XXL size stuff makes ominous popping sounds around the shoulders when I try to put it on.  For this reason, I didn’t think twice about the fact that my favorite store doesn’t stock jerseys cut for women.  Jerseys are supposed to fit all baggy and weird anyway, right?  I mean, It’s a football jersey, people!

I marched back to that area of the store with great anticipation.  As I beheld the racks of shirts, I wondered if I would need an XL or an XXL.  A couple of my favorite shirts are mens XXLs that are cut in the “athletic” cut.  They’re more form fitting than other men’s shirts, but they have the length I find is lacking in so many women’s clothing I try on.  On the other hand, I reasoned that jerseys are cut larger because of the way they are “supposed” to fit – all loose and baggy, so maybe I could get away with an XL.  The prospect excited me.

I plucked an XL and an XXL off the rack and decided that I better try them on to avoid a return trip.  After all, this was a rare shopping trip.  Best to make the best of it.  I shut myself into the dreaded fitting room, and tried the XL first.  Huh.  Snug.  I ripped it off and figured the XXL would be great and I would be on my way. 

But you know how it is when you pick up a shirt and stick your arms into it and you KNOW it’s not going to fit.  I shrugged it on anyway.  I felt and looked like I had been stuffed into it.  Like a sausage.  WTF?  Seriously.  WTF?  I have mens XXL shirts and I fit into them fine.  I don’t know what the difference is.  Maybe it’s the material.  My guess is the numbers printed on it cause the already non stretchy fabric to not. stretch.  at. all.

Being the stubborn person that I am, I bought it anyway.  I reasoned that if I wore a tight shirt under it, it would help smooth out the obvious crevices between my fat rolls.  Sure, my gut would be easily visible…but dammit, I wanted a jersey.  Normal people can wear football jerseys.  I have not strayed so far from Normal People Land that I cannot wear one.  I bought it.  And I have worn it.

But I know it looks terrible.  It defines every curve (the bad ones) on me and I feel like a sausage in it.  It’s tight and it doesn’t give at all.

So, that’s what I took my picture in.  To be more precise, I had my 5 year old take a picture of me in it.  You can watch me shrink in that for a while.  I wanted to watch myself start to look good in my long awaited jersey that I look like crap in now.  And then I will start to look bad in it.  And that will be good.  Then I’ll buy a new one. 

Maybe one cut for women instead of men this time.  Who knows?


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