Frump Town, USA


I have a decent amount of fears. Heights, birds, large bugs, alligator attacks…reasonable causes for concern. However, there is absolutely nothing I fear more than “letting myself go”. I don’t know if it’s because I’m American, or have taken too many trips to Disneyland, but the alarming amount of overweight, poorly dressed adults that I come in contact with in my lifetime have left me thoroughly fear stricken. How does this happen? WHY does this happen? Did something go wrong? Is it marriage? A mid-life crisis? Kids? Have you always been a big frumpy slob or did this happen overnight?! I gotta know.

What if I wake up one day, 4 years into my marriage, and I’m just like, you know what, fuck it- I’m gonna buy this shirt with howling wolves on it! I’d better get it two sizes bigger for comfort. I’ll pair it with some stretchy pants and granny panties. I want everyone to see the lines of my underwear through the pants. WHO CARES ABOUT MY GENERAL APPEARANCE?! Hey! Now that I think about it, I’ll cut all my hair off so I look completely asexual. Will my husband ever be physically attracted to me again? NOT MY PROBLEM! I’M COMFORTABLE!

It’s terrifying. I was in Vegas this past weekend and I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. These big humongous people could not give two fucks about what they were wearing or that they closely resembled beached whales. YOU’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO TRY?!

When I used to work at Morton’s Steakhouse, a gentleman came in with his family wearing – I KID YOU NOT- a plaid shirt with plaid shorts. Two completely different kinds of plaid. I don’t know what’s more horrifying: the fact that he made that wardrobe choice or that his wife was ok being seen in public with him in it. The amount of dads that would waddle into this five star steakhouse feeling perfectly content in khaki shorts and huge white Nikes literally made me sick to my stomach.

Look, I’m not an overachiever in the fashion department by any means. Yoga pants and a top bun are my go-to look. BUT COME ON. These people woke up, got out of bed, threw on a shirt with a map of Yosemite on it, put some sandals on OVER their socks, glanced in the mirror (presumably) and thought, I can totally wear this in public! I will encounter giant women throughout my day that resemble an old pillow and I am 98% certain they’ve never owned a hairbrush. HOW CAN YOU JUST GIVE UP ON YOURSELF LIKE THAT?!

My hairdresser is a beautiful, put together woman. She always has her hair styled, nails done, flawless eyeliner. I expressed my fears to her one time and she shook her head aggressively and assured me that the way I am now is the way I will always be. i.e., I will transition from a comfortably chic young adult to a trendy, yet low maintenance (in the fashion department, anyway) woman. My metabolism will surely slow down, but if I care now, I’ll continue to care. I could totally picture my pretty stylist as a young 20-something with equally impeccable eyeliner and perfectly ironed Guess? jeans. That’s who she is.

I guess all of these giant, badly dressed frumps were once fugly little kids that eventually turned into dweeby teens who slowly became out-of-touch young adults, and viola. Circle of life if you will. No one took the time to pull them aside and suggest an upper lip wax or tell them that you don’t really need a bright neon strap around your sunglasses.

So I guess I feel a little better, but not completely off the hook.  My dude suggested that we move to Europe where people are much more trendy and thin, but I care too much about quality dental work to make that kind of commitment.


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