I don’t know what size I am.
This is not because I’ve changed size. I’ve been the same weight and shape, basically, since my teens.
Now, I started out in a size 10-12, but I wore my clothing much looser back then (per the fashion), and it was a revelation to me that I was actually an 8. And I’ll believe it (why not?). I’ll believe that I’ve been an 8 this whole time. Sure.
That’s basically what I’ve been wearing since I found that the size fits me.
But then you get the stretch material. In stretch material, I can pull off a 6. Because of the forgiving material, I don’t bulge, and the way the fabric fits, it acts like a little makeshift corset, toning and curving, not squishing and jamming.
Yay! I’ve gone from a size 12 to a size 6, just by wearing differently styled clothing. Amazing.
And I’ll take it. Why not?
What I won’t accept, what I cannot accept is that I am a size 2. That I am an extra small. What the hell? That’s not even complimentary, that’s just confusing.