Dante wears Banana Republic

Yesterday I was distraught at the thought of going to yet another function where I am The Ugly One, in no small part because of my a)size and therefore b)lack of anything 1)suitable, and 2)flattering to wear. I ended up in a horrific gauze empire-waist sleeveless top that made me earn second glances not because it was so cute, but because people were trying to figure out if I was pregnant or just badly dressed and fat.

There's an exchange in The Devil Wears Prada*:

Nigel:"[Size] zero is the new two, two is the new four..."
Andy: I'm a size six.
Nigel: Size six is the new size fourteen.

And in the world of fashion, that's true. The thing is, in the wider world, no matter what my husband (who watches porn with size 4 pornstars, so I can hardly believe a word he says) tells me, Thinner is Better. anything over a size 10 isn't even worth mentioning. Size 10 is gargantuan and you should be on a diet and the odd designer will deign to make something for you while you figure out a way to starve and excercise your w ay to acceptability.

Yesterday I was suffering from both Fabulous Movie Clothing Hangover/Envy and having to compete with someone who is gorgeous even in tatty old jeans and faded summer top (on her, it just looks lovingly worn and lived-in, while I looked like the Cleaning Lady they decided to take to dinner to learn how to read the menu.

They were perfectly nice, and My Competition was blissfully unaware(as only someone gorgeous and thin and really sweet can be) of my torment, and was a gracious and kind hostess, funny and charming. But even throughout dinner and the conversation, I kept thinking how I can't keep up with her -- or 98% of the population. I'm not thin, I'm not rich. Hell, I can't even belong on a messageboard without being made to feel shit for being fat.

There was a time when clothes made me feel better. Philosophy was -- is, if I had a pretty new dress, or the right shoes, or the right bag (preferrably one from Marc Jacobs), I'd maybe be pretty. People would like me. I'd be acceptable. People would overlook the fat and ugly for the cute shoes, the interesting bag.

Thing is, though, now I can't afford interesting bags or truly great shoes. I'm the one rocking jeans from last year's banana republic sale, and Gap blouse I got off clearance. Accessories? Forget it. I'm even giving up that tired old Tiffany pendant I thought was so chic. I can't have Bettye Mueller, or David Yurman. I can't even FIT into cute frocks from blaec (hell, not even anthropologie!) , and spending $500 on a clearance Marc Jacobs bag is simply a foreign concept.

So what's the use? What is there to aspire to, aesthetically?

I'm hoping that going to see Superman will not be nearly as depressing.