Oh help me, God.

I spent the last afternoon of child-free bliss (school holidays are now officially on) doing a bit of shopping. More specifically some clothes shopping – for me – something I haven’t done in a long time. Tomorrow night I’m going out with the girls so I thought I’d head on up to Target and grab myself a new pair of jeans for the occasion. Just because.

So I’m scouring the racks and find a couple of pairs that look like the business. Next stop, the fitting room. Duh duh DUH!

In I go, my plastic counter in the shape of a ‘2’ from the attendant clutched in one hand, the two pairs of jeans in the other. I hang the jeans on the hook and start to unzip my chinos. One leg out, then two. I turn to reach for the first pair of denim and then — *gasp* — I catch a glimpse of orange-peel thigh and sagging less-than-perky buttocks. Oh God. I really wish I hadn’t seen that. But it’s like a train wreck, my eyes can’t look away, all the while despairing ever-so slightly.

It’s hard to miss, isn’t it? All the perceived flaws of your body, perfectly reflected back at you in multi-mirrored splendour. And in that ugly, unflattering light all fitting rooms seem to use. It’s pretty tough: once you’re inside those cubicles, the naked truth about the state of what’s going on behind you is undeniable. It’s a wonder we shop at all, really.

So what’s my truth, you may ask? Let me put it to you like this: the backs of my thighs and butt resemble a modern-day cellulite city. A metropolis that is not only busy but extends to a sprawling expanse of suburbia. And everyone has orange trees in their backyard. It’s like a freaking ORCHARD back there.

Did you know that over 90% of women have cellulite? I didn’t. So I’m not alone with an orchard problem. I usually don’t dwell on it too much but seeing it in the cold, hard light of the fitting room was hard to ignore today. Because I DO exercise, I DO have a healthy diet and I’m not an overly large person, so it’s frustrating. If I’m lucky, one day someone will invent a pill to get rid of it and I’ll be free at last! *heavenly choir sings*

But back to the fitting room. Remember? Me getting depressed after seeing that orchard? Two words, people: RETAIL THERAPY. I ended up buying BOTH pairs of jeans for the absolute bargain price of $40.00. I know, right? Gorgeous jeans for a measly $20.00 bucks each? How could I resist?

And here’s the upshot of the story: I may have a dimpled rear end but it looks fucking FABULOUS encased in denim! And me and my fabulous tush will be shaking our collective tail feathers with all the beautiful girlies tomorrow night. Truth be damned!

What sort of truths do you face in the fitting room? Or are you part of the 10%? 

[Images from illustrator.com]