Find us on Facebook

Login Form

AS THE TACO TURNS

(And takes the world with it)

By Beth Berube

 

taco_march2011There is a store in Seattle called Chicos. Their clothes buyers have a brilliant philosophy.  If a woman wears an off the rack size eight at every other store, she can try on a frock at Chicos in a size two. Voila! A perfect fit. A little confusing perhaps but hey, we all need an ego boost now and again.

In Mexico, the fashionistas have a sadistic polar opposite approach in sizing women’s clothing.  Case in point --- There are about three sizes to choose from in the women’s department.  The first is chica or small.  A blouse in this size might fit someone with the physique of a Chihuahua.  In fact, I don’t think I have seen anyone wearing a size chica unless they were in diapers.  The next step up is mediana. Medium. On most charts, this is where I would fall. The third size is Grande. Like the Rio Grande or the Grand Canyon. Not something a gal gets excited about pulling off the rack and trying on.

In the morning, I weigh about 130 pounds, give or take, depending on how many servings of flan I had the night before.  I am not skinny, but if I were to place a singles ad, I could describe myself as height/weight proportional and nobody would call me on it.

Last week I celebrated my 55th birthday and decided to go shopping in Manzanillo for a shiny, new blouse. I plucked a cute little number off the rack. It was medium, and I made a beeline for the changing room. I looked like an elephant sporting a tight teddy. Realizing that drastic circumstances call for drastic measures, I sauntered over to the lingerie department. There on a rack in front of me I found a Body Silhouette Contour Waist Length Shaping Bra that promised to reduce my girth by one whole size.

Shazaam!! Pop a crown on my head and point me towards the runway.  I wanted to be certain that it would fit, so I snatched up a size Grande and headed for home.  The reality of what happened next was savagely troubling.  I practically needed a crowbar to get it over my head and past my shoulders.  I enlisted my husband Larry’s help and between the two of us, we were able to make the necessary adjustments.

Unfortunately, the spandex material kept rolling up like a window sash, squeezing my solar plexus with boa constrictor strength.  Fearing I might pass out from oxygen deprivation, Larry mustered all the energy he had left and was able to extricate me. It’s so nice to have a man around the house.

My self-worth is in shambles and my pride smashed into subatomic particles. If a Chicos store ever opens around here, I will be their first customer.

primi sui motori con e-max

Add comment

Security code
Refresh

The Day After the Day of the Dead And yet I love, On autumn eves, when silence reigns above, To visit some ancestral village keep, Where
2012 Issues   December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February
January 2015 Please select one: Online format Only articles (respond to any article here) Magazine style format Articles
Editor’s Page By Alejandro Grattan-Dominguez For more editorials, visit: http://thedarksideofthedream.com We’re Off to See the Wizard!   This
HERNÁN CORTÉS—The Conqueror By Herbert W. Piekow   Hernándo Cortez Pizarro was born into a noble but poor Spanish family in 1485. Like the

Our Issues

December 2014

july2011-ojo

November 2014

july2011-ojo

October 2014

july2011-ojo

September 2014

july2011-ojo

August 2014

july2011-ojo

July 2014

july2011-ojo

June 2014

july2011-ojo

 

More....