Where is Tim Gunn when you need him?

Even before I had my girth-expanding epiphany, I had noticed something sinister about the clothing offered to women of my generation.

I hesitate to say ‘my age’ because I have seen women both older and wider than me wearing clothes I would ban my own college kid from wearing out ~ seriously ladies! Once you’re no longer a Junior or Miss, please, PLEASE stop wearing clothes meant for someone literally half your age. You’re embarrassing us all.

Goes with so many things!

What I noticed is that women’s clothing designers are a mean pack of practical jokers. According to the U.S. National Center for Health Statistics, the average adult female weighs 162.9 pounds, not 102.9 as the fashion industry would have us believe. Based on the overabundance of color and pattern mixing they would also have the world believe we are both color blind and total fashion morons.

When I was a kid my mother flat refused to let me out of the house if I was wearing plaids with checks, or vertical and horizontal stripes. Forget purple and yellow, or orange and pink, let alone jeans with holes in them.

Women's Section ~ really?

I’m not vain enough to think that I can still get away with wearing squeezy-tight anything or short mid-drifts. I don’t want jeans so restrictive that both my circulation and air flow are cut off.  I appreciate the trend toward more flowing tops and dresses, but I don’t want to be mistaken for a the next oldest pregnant lady in the Guinness Book of World Records. A-lines have gotten totally out of control, as have bows and ruffles. Ruffles? Really?

Where's my rocking chair?

I also don’t want to be regulated to wearing velour jogging suits studded with multi-colored rhinestones, and garishly hand-painted seashells or flamingos.

A frantic hunt through the mall will find only those items of clothing that should be saved for Halloween or my dotage.

All of these photos were taken from selections offered in the Women’s Sections of various department stores ~ not Juniors, not Miss ~ Women’s. The only time I have seen a woman, a real flesh and bone woman, the size of the one in the turtle neck sweater was on the Discovery Channel during a famine documentary. Honestly, what healthy middle-aged woman is that freakin’ skinny?!

I can picture a back room somewhere in the garment district of New York City. A gaggle of fashionistas are gathered around a table plotting their next assault on the ‘tweens known as ‘Women.’

‘Let’s puts some green, blue and yellow geometric shapes together, with an off-center bow tie on a mandarin collar. We can flair it out so there is no discernible waist line which will accentuate any tummy bulges. Oh, and capped sleeves, that will draw unwanted attention to those flabby upper arms. No dear, not silk, polyester!’

Brilliant!