I Somehow Made it to Toronto; Why I Hate the Fashion Industry and Canned Tuna Salad??

My vacation from work has officially begun and I have finally arrived in Toronto in one piece, safe & sound at my parents’ home. Lesson number one: Don’t work before taking a five hour train ride. Take the whole day off. I am too exhausted to do much else right now.

I had been up since 6:00Am this morning for my job, with my baggage, only to discover when I arrived at the office I had forgotten to pack a sweater or a light jacket. It had been warm in Montreal. I heard it was pretty much the same story for Toronto; I guess I just didn’t think about it.  Odds are, I probably won’t need it and I could probably borrow something from either of my parents if it got cool, but I knew sometimes the air conditioning on the train can get pretty cold; for five hours without anything to put on, I could get pretty uncomfortable. So, when my replacement arrived at 13:00, I gave her her tasks and ran to the shopping mall near my office in search of a sweater or a windbreaker.  I was looking for something inexpensive, naturally, and of course, simple. I am also plus sized and like my clothes to be much larger. I am not a slave to fashion.  I figure I’ll go to Zellers, go to the men’s department and find something there and I’ll be happy.  Nothing in the men’s department though. Bad time to shop, apparently, clearing out that summer stock to make way for incoming fall wear.  So, off to the plus sized women’s wear I went.

Here’s why I really hate the fashion industry! Zellers plus size section for women looks too…well…old. I think I saw something similar to what my grandmother was buried in.  My options are limited due to my size, I only had 2 other places to go without leaving the vicinity. Doesn’t anyone sell normal simple windbreakers or sweaters or sweatshirts that simply zips up in the front anymore? Yeesh? Can’t anything be made anymore without lace, ruffles, frills, rhinestones, sequines, glitter or slogans that say stuff like “babe” on them?  Sure, that’s fine for folks like Rightchik Tammeee who really have nothing else to their lives but that, but not for your’s truly.

If obesity is a growing problem in society, including amongst girls and women, the fashion industry certainly isn’t paying attention. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I see overweight gals in tight tops and such; but that ‘s just wrong!  Bad enough I’m overweight, no one should have to actually see from where those bulges actually emerge. Nobody needs to look at jelly rolls.

Since I had gained all this weight (being overweight is new for me), I find myself fighting more with salesgirls more than before. They tell me that I can fit into a 2x and some cases a 1x just fine. When I insist I want a 3x or a 4x, they keep saying, no! no! you’re floating in them or something along those lines. Well, when they tell me that, I know I have found the right item. Just the way I like it.  What is the deal with salesgirls anyway? I’m going to buy the product if I like it.  They’re still going to get their commission; why must they insist on trying to squeeze me into smaller sizes?

I hate the fact that options are limited for plus sized women and men in the way of clothes shopping; not that many stores carry them and we have to pay oh so much more! I know, we use up more material and thread. Got it.

Anyway, I finally found a plain black cotton jogging jacket that zips down the front (oh no! Will I be mistaken for a black bloc over here? Oh well).

I stop at a kiosk to buy cigarettes and lawdy, doncha know it?  No line up, but, some annoying woman with an entire file folder with a large assortment of lottery tickets to be validated. Ever notice it’s always when you’re in a hurry to get something at the depanneur or pharmacy or wherever they happen to sell lottery tickets, you’re stuck behind someone with a huge binder full of tickets to be validated? I always feel like yelling at them: “idiots! This is Montreal! No one wins the big prizes here!” Which is true, not since Lavigueur has anyone won any major jackpots in Montreal.  I ended up getting the smokes elsewhere.

I ran back to the office to grab my baggage, which is a big tennis bag my parents gave me years ago. Called the cab and made it to Central Station.

I was warned by a co-worker to buy my own food in advance as the offerings from the train cart are gross and overpriced.  I did well to heed his advice. Canned tuna salad??? Ok, is it just me, or does anyone else find anything hideously wrong with that?? Came with crackers too, but that doesn’t reassure me, somehow.

Anyhow, I’m safely in Toronto, with no food poisoning and ever more hostile toward clothing salesgirls and the fashion industry.