Zipped by the pinheads
by Tyler Jane Barley

Get this point straight before you read any further: I like my body shape. I am completely happy with who I am and how I look. I am not complaining about my self image.

Alright; it's good to get those issues out of the way. On to my story.

I was feeling girly the other day when a JCPenney catalog arrived in the mail. With nothing else to do, I paged through, doing a little faux shopping. And hey, if I found something I liked, I could skip a trip to the mall. A bonus.

So I found this cool flower-print dress. It looked really good on the model, and as we share a similar body structure, I figured it would look good on me. I glanced over at the price, but before I got there I saw that this dress was made only in sizes 8 and up.

On one level, I applaud this. It's good that the clothing manufacturers are making clothes that fit most women. I know, I know, there's a reason the Dillards' Woman is sizes 14-24: matronly cash. And the same impetus is driving the JCPenney catalog.

But the model in the picture is a size 4, or maybe a size 6 (not very likely, though). There aren't many of us women who are almost six feet tall and size 4 or 6, but we do exist. And in general, we are used to sell clothes, because the same horny frat boys who idolize posters of almost-nude women grow up to become heads of marketing. I don't blame Hugh or Bob or Larry; those guys merely follow the average male opinion of ultimate female beauty. And you don't see many Playboy centerfolds plastered on the side of bus stops.

All I'm asking, really, is that if the catalogs feel compelled to use slinky models to sell the clothes, then they should sell the exact clothes the model is wearing. I've even been to stores like the Limited and the Gap where the clothes have been tailored to fit the bone-thin mannequin. "Oh, we don't carry that size" is a refrain I've heard far too many times. And I always get a condescending sneer from the clerk, who is obviously thinking "She's starving herself to conform to an outmoded male ideal."

Well, maybe I'm a bit too sensitive about this. Still, it's a bitch to be a feminist when you're built like Kim Alexis. All I have to say is that this is simply not my fault. Last Sunday I drank beer, scarfed gumbo and fried fixins, smoked cigars and, oh yeah, watched the Super Bowl. I ate and drank more than most people at the party. And I didn't proceed to puke it back up when I got home. I simply digested it and went on.

In other words, my body shape isn't my fault. Actually, I look this way despite my best efforts. But that's getting off the subject.

Dresses aren't a big issue. I can cinch big ones in with a belt, or leave them loose and simply look a bit frumpy. But have you ever tried to find a size 5 long pair of jeans? Good luck. I spent two whole days combing every mall in the area, and the best I could come up with were a pair of men's jeans that I had to alter (no guys, jeans are NOT jeans). In most stores, the clerks who were nice enough to look up such things in a catalog found that that particular size did not exist. Hell, a 7 long was almost as hard to find (and that's a compromise I don't like to make).

So, JCPenney (and every other store that sells women's clothing), do the right thing. Either start hiring models who fit the clothes you're selling, or sell the clothes your models are wearing. I mean, it doesn't seem like too much to ask.

Tyler Jane Barley exists in St. Petersburg, Fla. The next person to tell her that she needs to eat more will be sipping his or her meals until April.

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