SIze Matters

Yesterday I went to buy some jeans. It was the first time in months that I'd done any clothes shopping. And I should explain that in the space of those months, I lost some weight, so when I went into the clothing store, I realized I had no idea what size I was anymore. I did know that my former "skinny" jeans--the jeans I used to wear when I didn't feel like sitting down or breathing--had gotten too big for me. But that was hardly enough information to go on in figuring out my new size. So in an attempt to save a little trying-on time, I asked a salesperson what size he thought I might be. He looked me up and down (guys, do NOT attempt this if you are not a clothing salesperson!) and said off-handedly, "I'd say a 2 or a 0."

I burst into incredulous laughter. "What?! No. Come on."

"Well, our sizes do tend to run a little big..."

"Yeah, but still," I said, and picked up a pair of pants in a size 4. Even those, I thought, would probably be too small.

But they weren't. Just the opposite, in fact.

So, to make a long story short, I bought my first pair of size 2 jeans yesterday. I am still kind of reeling from the shock. It's a pleasant sort of reeling, though. I mean, it's certainly better than reeling to something like "a piano fell out of the sky onto my car and smashed it to smithereens in a freak accident." You know?

PS For any readers of the male persuasion who are wondering what on earth a size 2 is, let me explain: No one knows. The methodology behind the sizing of women's clothing is a mystery on a par with quantum physics, and trying to figure it out is like trying to find the bottom of a black hole--impossible. See, a size 2 pair of jeans at the Gap might not be a size 2 at Ann Taylor or Express. Maybe it will be a size 4. Or a 6. Or maybe it will be a letter, like S. Be assured that the one thing it will NOT be is a logical reference to waist and inseam measurements. Because that would make way too much sense.