Reality with Ann

I get daily emails from Ann Taylor. Actually they show up at about midnight every night but I'm splitting hairs. Now I love Ann Taylor and I know she is in trouble and I want to help her but I can't. I do not currently fit in her clothes. Not that I don't try.

Every morning I awake to my blackberry flashing red. There are usually a couple emails waiting for me, Facebook notifications, spam, and Ann. Taylor. And when I was skinny, she never gave me the time of day. I paid a lot of money for her classic clothes, clothes Audrey Hepburn would have worn, some of which are still hanging in my closet, waiting patiently for my body to find their way back to them. I never heard from her then. But now, she sends me daily reminders that she has amazing, beautiful things waiting just for me at 20% off! Even the new stuff. And, in denial of what the deep recesses of my mind knows, I click on the photo and see all the beautiful things and think: "That would look great on me". Were it not for the fact that I am not 30 or skinny or flawless anymore, it certainly would look great on me.

But I am undeterred. I still quite see myself as I was then. I am completely not kidding. And you know what? I know there are millions of other women who are blind to themselves - so get off my back! And off I go with my groovy plum colored, patent leather bag (from Ann Taylor) to the Oaks Mall (a truly beautiful mall as far as malls go) and I bee line straight to Ann Taylor to see these beautiful things for myself. I love the minimalist design of her stores. Blonde wood and lots of space. I go directly to the the display that stands right beyond the store entrance. This display speaks and it says: "Valri! Where have you been? We have a brand new designer we want you to meet. We can finally start the party!" And then I look at the tags. Bad party. $70.00 for a t-shirt. Oh please. (There was a day when I would not have blinked at that. There was a day when I owed Ann more than $1000.) But I have a 20% off coupon and I quickly calculate. That makes it $56.00. For a T-shirt. Pass. Pass forever.

Still, I must peek. I look at the sizes. They have 2 in size 6, 4 in size 8, 3 in size 10. That's it. Any larger sizes were either snatched up or were never there. I presume the latter. Why is Ann emailing me??

Pressing on, I go looking at the sale racks. In the larger sizes there is very limited selection. It is about this time that one of the lovely sales women walks up to me with a lovely smile and asks, lovely-ly, "Can I help you?" I am not fooled. I know that her "inner dialogue" (actor talk) sounds a little more like this: "Is she kidding? Does she own a mirror?"

And yes I do thank you. But it lies. However, the dressing room - in this economy - does not. Even on sale, I cannot overlook a fabric stretched too far.

What happened? I don't understand. I look exactly the same! I haven't gained any weight. True. I have not gained any weight. Since yesterday. Since 1999, pre-baby? Oh yes. Quite a bit.

There is incentive in this store.