Feeling fat and feeling old.

Disclaimer: This post contains swearing. I wasn't drunk when I wrote it, in fact quite the opposite. If you take offence at the word 'cunt' then I suggest you quit reading and leave this blog. And also, I KNOW I'm not fat or old. THAT'S JUST HOW I FEEL.

Yesterday I went into a shop (if you follow me on Twitter you'll know what shop I'm on about but for the sake of my husbands job I probably shouldn't name names - he works for the group, you see) to buy a pair of jeans. I've bought jeans from this brand before and they've fit near perfectly and although they're not the best jeans around, they're affordable and good enough for running around after a toddler in. I wanted to replace a pair I'd ripped so I went in knowing exactly which size and style to head towards. The pair I'd busted have lasted me almost two years so it was a given I was going to get another pair from here.

So off I skipped to the denim section, picked up my size (I also went for the size below even though I knew they'd never fit, but I wanted to see how smaller I had to go in order to fit in to them... turns out it's impossibly small) and went to try them on. The result? Well, how can I put this politely? Hmmmm... utter fucking wank. The smaller size was even smaller than I remember and the size I normally wear were ok around the waist but ridiculously large in the leg. And I know I haven't lost inches because I have exactly the same style and size in a different colour. Hmpf. This brand, I'd decided (after years of shopping there and for a while, working there), was a massive pile of shit.

I sat down in the shoe area and looked around me. Teens floating around with their tiny waists and tiny boobs, picking up cropped tops and short skirts, the smallest of bikinis no doubt for their trip to the Balearic Islands. I felt fat and ugly and old. I looked further and saw clothes that I remember dressing in as a teen. Bodycon, cropped, tight tight clothes, mini's... this isn't the store I remember being in love with. Fast, high fashion that I loved and could afford. WHAT HAPPENED? WHEN DID I GET SO FAT AND OLD?

In a rage, I stormed out of the store muttering under my breath 'Mr X (Owner of the brand), you are a massive cunt.' WHY HAS THIS SHOP MADE ME FEEL LIKE A FAT, OLD TURD? WHY? Why is it full of tiny, pretty girls with shiny hair and perfect skin? Just because I'm a Mum and my tits sag now, doesn't mean I don't want to look nice. I still want to wear skinny jeans (although I have to tuck my muffin top in on a bad day) and sleeveless tees (bingo wings, anyone? pah, they're the new black init). BUT WHY CAN'T I GET ANYTHING TO FUCKING FIT ME?

And it turns out I'm not alone. Oh no. And guess who the majority of people who agree with me are? MUMS. That's right, MUMS. So do you know what I'm doing? I'm writing a letter to the brand telling them exactly what I think of their tight dresses and wank fitting jeans and exactly where they can shove them. I shall load it into a pigeons back (my husband) and have it delivered right to that fat old wankers desk (yeah, he will probably lose his job but I have a point to prove).

So please, if you have anything you'd like to add to my already long letter of what I think of this brand (come on ladies, don't act dumb... I think we ALL know who I'm talking about) then please leave your comments below.