On plus size shopping:

Third grade.  That was the first year shopping for clothes became, let's say, challenging. 

 Plus size clothing for girls and women has come a long way.  And still, it hasn't come that far.  I remember looking for jeans that would fit my waist.  They tended to be size "Misses."  There I'd stand, feet in the denim's knee section, six inches of Jean trailing on the floor. 

                "We can hem these," my mom would say optimistically as she rolled the pants up and turned me toward the mirror.  Ahhh, the horrors.  There I stood short and portly, the stunning physique of a cheerful garden gnome.

                Somehow I survived one fashion horror after another during those early years simply by being a Vermonter.  I've known plenty of transplants who've settled in Vermont only to be appalled at the State's general lack of fashion sense.  But because the prom queen wore sweat pants, her hair barely brushed into a sustainable ponytail, we were all safe.  There was no point of reference.  Except for Teen and Seventeen Magazine.  Ah, I spent hours reading through the pages, pouring over the "Nightmare(s) of the Month," which inevitably chronicled the events leading to an unsuspecting pre-teen starting her period clad in white from head-to-toe, something straight out of a Freddy Krueger flick.  It was there I saw skinny girls flashing dazzling smiles sporting leggings and slouch socks;  leotards snug under denim overalls; tartan skirts, knee socks  and sporty converse sneakers.  Oh, and then there was the prom issue.  One word: puffy sleeves. Don't even get me started.

                But when I headed to Penney's with my mom it was always the same.

                "We can hem these."

                Blink, blink.

            When stores began adding plus sized clothing to their collection the outcome was, well, dismal.  While cute styles hung on the size 0-12 racks, the "Womens" rack was a startling raucous combination of bead work, rhinestones, ruffles and feathers - well, maybe not feathers, but think garish .  There was, to be fair,  the occasional Golden Girls-esque pants suit for the active retiree, but that was about it.  It was in those days that I became a scavenger.  I 'd find tees that could be stretched, elastic waist bands that could be hidden, and denim that could be de-be-dazzled.  It was a gift.  It still is a gift.

                The first month of the 1312 challenge is drawing to a close.   I haven't eaten sugar, flour, or dairy for twenty-eight days, my self-determined eating plan (http://whole30.com/).  Maureen is an animal with her Bob Revolution Duallie.  Leigh is forging ahead with exercise and prescribed  vitamins and supplements.  We're doing this. 

                As for the future of fashion?  When I fit into the 0-12 rack, I'm wearing every fashion I was ever denied, beginning with a great pair of jeans, no hemming necessary.