There’s something wrong with the sizes
As I mentioned briefly on Wednesday, I bought two new shirts from David Jones this week. That in itself is nothing remarkable: I like shopping, I like nice clothes, I have a shortage of nice clothes, you do the math. Now, I’m not a small guy; 6'4", 200lbs, broad shoulders… I haven’t been described as ‘skinny’ in about seven years.
No, this isn’t a personal ad.
Why is it, then, that one of the shirts I bought just three days ago was a Medium and the other a Small? A sizing system that describes humans in terms of ‘XS’, ‘S’, ‘M’, ‘L’ and ‘XL’ is by no means empirical, that much is certain, but why in the hell am I wearing a Small? It fits nicely, it looks good, it doesn’t chafe… so is this a girth thing? Am I not fat enough for you? Where do the really skinny guys have to go to shop, the boys’ department? Maybe there was a mix–up with the guys at the factory… someone thought they were using a measuring tape with centimeters on it and it turned out to be inches. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that baggy clothes are out, and they’re yet to adjust their inventory. Maybe it’s just more of that insidious social programming they keep doing with their fashionista stylings and bouffant hairdos. Maybe that effeminate looking guy in the underwear ad who doesn’t look particularly happy to be next to that half–naked, well–proportioned, really, really, really, ridiculously good–looking chick is coming to kill me tonight.
Maybe.