Have you ever made fun of the fake sizes at the women’s clothing stores where your grandmother loved to shop? 

The one where their size 2 fits Mrs. Santa Clause? 

I have reached the age where I’m starting to understand why these stores exist. And I’m cringing at the fact their catalog might be coming for me. 

On a recent back-to-spring almost-birthday shopping spree with my cousin, I was faced with some harsh realities. Given that my go-to jeans (the pair I reach for every other day) could stand on their own, I figured it’s time to brighten up my wardrobe.

I mean, it’s spring. I can’t hide under my black long-sleeve tee shirt much longer.

We should all be wearing color-me-beautiful ensembles that make us look and feel fabulous. But my body has changed. And it is making shopping feel more like a trip to the dentist.

So I tried on dresses that made me look like I was left on the prairie with Alfonso. 

I tried on white pants that highlight ripples I didn’t even know I had.

I tried on colored denim that could not be zippered up without a pair of pliers.

I also attempted to try on a cute skirt, but I couldn’t pull it up past my thighs.

Oh I almost gave up.

I mean most women would have left. 

But you don’t understand. 

I love to shop.

I have loved to shop since I was a little girl and had money saved up in my leather coin purse from babysitting.

It’s in my blood.

My grandmother was a shopper.

My mom is a shopper.

My aunts are all shoppers.

My daughter also inherited the new jeans gene.

We all come from a long lineage of women DEDICATED to retail therapy.

But shopping for my new body-by-cortisol? It’s not easy. 

For a few moments there, I was beginning to feel like I had lost my will ….to shop. 

Thankfully, I was revived by my cousin and a sweet sales associate who looked like she was 12. I was disoriented at first. But before long, they talked me out of the fitting room and into something more suitable (for my new potato shape). 

There was a lot of self acceptance and self discovery going on in that boutique.

I sipped my water and pinched my cheeks and told myself I CAN DO THIS. 

I expanded my options (and my dress size) and paired what they recommended with higher heels. Taking boxed breaths, I stepped out of the room as well as my comfort zone. I stood in front of the mirror and reminded myself, “Everything is going to be ok”.

When dealing with all the hormonal imbalances that come with mid-life, moments like these require tremendous patience.

By shifting my attitude, I opened myself up to new styles. New looks. New colors. And I’m hoping what I left with works.

I chose a leisurely linen ensemble that at first made me look like one of the Golden Girls had started a house painting business. But I know on my next shopping conquest I WILL find the best coordinating accessories. 

I have to remind you: Retail therapy is real. And it can still work no matter what your shape or size.

After all, I may have spent hundreds of dollars on new clothes, but I saved myself dozens of hours of therapy.