Totally got suckered at The Gap on Monday.
I never should’ve set foot in there. That stupid sign out front that said 40% off should not have made me blink, but it held preternatural power over me and I floated in and tried on a pair of jeans in my normal size.
They were too big! What? I didn’t think I’d lost weight. I mean, yeah, I’ve been running. A lot. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been able to keep up with any exercise by maniacally upping my calorie intake (a full sleeve of Ritz crackers with a tablespoon of peanut butter on each cracker last night, anyone?) Surely I wasn’t a size smaller.
So I went a size smaller. An 8.
The 8 was…too big.
Holy crap. I was the incredible shrinking woman. The salesgirl brought me a 6. I put them on.
They fit. !!!! (How many exclamation points can I fit in this blog? !!!! to the 1000th power insert here.)
Me? A size 6? Shut. Up.
Then…drum roll, please. Salesgirl says, “There’s this other style, and I think you’ll really love them. They run a little big, so I’ll bring them in a 4.”
I snorted. A four. Please. I haven’t been a size four since the 7th grade, and it was for a split second. But she brought them anyway. The style was called, “Long and Lean.” The size was 4. I chuckled as I put them on and slid them over my hips then actually cackled when they fit.
I mean, really. A size four?
And worse, I’m 5’1″ tall. And (full disclosure, and I choke to type it 138 pounds). There is NO universe in which I can be described as either “long” or “lean.”
But there they were. Size four.
If they’d been cuter than the size six jeans, I’d SO have put them on the debit card and skipped out of the store whistling that song fromWest Side Story. “I pity every girl who isn’t me tonight.”
Meanwhile, I more than happily forked over the cash for the size sixes. I mean, it was 1994 and I’d just come home from Japan (where there wasn’t a lot of food that tempted me to gorge myself) the last time I was a size six.
Seriously the vanity sizing worked its insidious manipulation on me. Even after I checked the receipt this morning and saw that this particular pair of jeans was NOT 40% off, after all. Sheesh! Bait and switch, people. Bait and switch.
The brilliant people at The Gap now have my money, I’m a size six. I can wear a four, but sixes look better. They’re happy. I’m happy, everybody wins. Everybody wins with vanity sizing, folks.