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If This Is Eileen Fisher, I Must Be Extra Small
I just got a spiffy new “Doctor Who” T-shirt in the mail. It’s a Large and it fits me perfectly. The funny thing is that when I shop at my local Eileen Fisher store, I’m an Extra Small. Not just Small, mind you. Extra Small.
When I look in the mirror, I don’t see an extra small woman. I’m actually taller than most of my friends. I do have good muscle tone from all the walking I do. But I’m also blessed with that extra tushie padding that comes with being a mature Jewish woman. There’s really nothing extra small about me. Except maybe my math skills.
Growing up, I always knew exactly what size I was. I was a teen girl in the Detroit suburbs, before girls participated in team sports and decades before the internet. There was nothing to do on Saturday but hang out at the mall. Our moms dropped us off at noon and picked us up again when the mall closed at five. In the interim, we socialized and shopped.
In those days, I could visit the Hudsons Junior department, go to the Size 7 rack and know that everything on it would fit me. I’m not saying that it would all look good on me. But it fit. If nothing I tried on looked fabulous, I could head over to one of the mall’s many boutique shops and try on their Junior Sevens. I couldn’t be sure that I’d fall in love with an outfit, or that if I did, Mom would let me buy it…
