GingerSass

adding ginger to your sass

GingerSass - adding ginger to your sass

Worst break up ever

Last week was a really traumatizing week for me. I tried to go clothes shopping for 3 days in a row, and I was either insulted or too fat for every store I entered. I’m currently right in between “regular” sizes and plus size clothing so this really didn’t add to my current body image issues.

I even ended up going through a traumatizing break up with Target. This was, by far, the worst part of last week. Target has been my go-to place for jeans and cute outfits since I was a teenager. Target has been my most consistent, reliable relationship for the past 10 years or so, and even when Target breached my sense of security and stability, I found it in my heart to work on our relationship and forgive them. I’ve been slowly working on making my way back into their stores following the holiday fiascos that made national headlines, and I even found myself rationalizing why “my Target” didn’t have a plus size section anymore two weeks ago (“It’s one of the smaller stores in the chain!”).

Even amongst a broken, abandoned, snow-filled heart, I found a way to love Target.

Even amongst a broken, abandoned, snow-filled heart, I found a way to love Target. I just didn’t realize I was giving as much as Target was taking.

I have loved them deeply and inexplicably for years, and I found out, officially, at a “bigger store” last week that they have essentially stopped carrying plus size clothing. Instead, they’ve replaced the plus size racks with “Small” and “Extra-Small” clearance items, along with a line of bathing suits that seem to be promoting the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. I asked an employee, point blank, if Target had gotten rid of plus sizes. I was half-joking, not expecting the following response:

Yea. We haven’t had new plus sizes for awhile. We put all of them on clearance at the end of the season. Maybe we’ll get a new shipment in a few months, by the end of the summer.

Well, dang, that was heart breaking to hear. I found a piece on Jezebel that actually confirms this disastrous news to be true.

Eff you, beauty standards.

There's something wrong with replacing women's clothes with "women's clothes" meant for a pre-pubescent 12 year old.

There’s something wrong with replacing women’s clothes with “women’s clothes” meant for a pre-pubescent 12 year old.

So, I took a leap of faith last week. I went to the mall to look for professional clothes for work, which usually makes me have angina. I found a cute blazer, but I really wanted to find a new dress. I stepped outside my comfort zone and into New York & Company, where I discovered that Eva Mendes loves me more than Spot, the forgotten Target dog, does. She has a super cute vintage-inspired spring clothing line THAT IS MEANT FOR GIRLS WITH CURVES. I fell in love with an adorable silky navy blue dress covered in polka dots and roses. I happily checked out, and I even opened a New York & Company card, which is something I’ve never EVER done with a mall store.20140325-165802.jpg

Much to my delight, when I was home sick today, I had on daytime television. Eva was on Ellen WEARING THE SAME DRESS THAT I BOUGHT FROM HER LINE.20140325-165819.jpg

So, thank you, Eva Mendes, for justifying my girl-crush on you. Thank you for saying it’s okay to have curves. Thank you for making me feel human. And screw you Target for saying I’m not worthy of your time or money. We’re over.

 

(Before anyone asks, no, this is not a sponsored post. I’m just going through body image issues and Target actually sucks at comforting me. Thank God for Eva Mendes.)

 

Saddest thing ever

 

My love.

My love.

I can’t get an image of something I saw today out of my head.

I was driving home from work on a fairly busy road leading to a major highway when I saw an old man huddled under some trees on the side of the road. I’ve seen this man walking his dog on this road before, and it’s always made me nervous because it is such a damn busy road. Today was no different… until I grew closer.

The old man had his dog in his arms, and he was holding him close to his flannel shirt. The old man seemed to be crying, and rightfully so– his dog was limp and covered in blood. The dog had finally been hit by a car, and was presumably dead in his owner’s arms. A car was stopped near the old man– perhaps the car that hit the dog?– and a man in his mid-forties was talking to the old man.

I will never be able to get that heart-wrenching image out of my head. The mere thought of blood freaks me out, yet I can’t imagine doing anything differently if my Max was hit by a car. As owners of fur babies, we love and cherish the everlasting love our dogs give us. I would go to great extremes to show my Max the love and care he deserves.

I dedicate the following letter that appeared in “Annie’s Mailbox” the other day to that old man and his dog. Maybe whatever, if any, higher being you believe in help you find the strength to mourn your furry friend’s loss.

Dear Annie: You printed an essay about a year ago regarding the loss of a pet from the pet’s point of view. I’m sorry, but that’s all I remember. I recall the way that poem made me feel. I hope you can help me dig it up. — A.S.

Dear A.S.: That poem is one of our most requested, and we are pleased to reprint it.

A Dog’s Plea by Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I might lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when the sound of your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to bitter elements. I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food that I might stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.

And, my friend, when I am very old, and I no longer enjoy good health, hearing and sight, do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having any fun.

Please see that my trusting life is taken gently. I shall leave this Earth knowing with the last breath I draw that my fate was always safest in your hands.