real women don’t have curves? we guess…

Aside from being business partners and best buds, Flaxen and Tawny also share another feature in common: curvaliciousness. And that is one of the reasons we began our friendship, our business, and our blog; to get across to women that being ‘imperfect’ is actually better than being ‘perfect’. We’re so much more interesting that way! We want to appreciate all that we are, without being advocates of changing our weight, our shape, or our external demeanors. Apart from that, we both get quite cranky when not fed and enjoy shakin’ what our mamas’ gave us on a regular basis;)

Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. So visualize this when trying to identify with our above position:

Tawny, in need of a paying gig to support her blogging habit, ventures out into unknown terrain to look for work. While perusing the web, she happens upon a post that she may be perfect for. What they need is a woman with her exact proportions to come in and be a fit model for a specific designer. Upon request, she sends in her measurements and a full length picture. This job pays well.

She gets asked to come in for a casting call (hopefully not ‘couch’) to test her wearability of garments a) jeans, b) tank top and c) shirt. Her first thought? Don’t eat or drink water before 3pm; the call time. A flat belly can almost guarantee her employment.

She eats of course or she’d be a tear through the offices upon arrival and cantankerous Tawny could possibly come out. She walks up the stairs and sighs a big sigh. Low and behold, upon entering the building suite, there is a gaggle of 25 tall women ranging from sizes 6-8. Wait, scratch that. A gaggle of 25 tall women supposedly ranging from sizes 6-8. Her second thought? Starvation would have been a good idea. Her third thought? Run.

She doesn’t, seeing that some confidence and a possible blog could come out of this painful casting session. She’s the first size 8 asked to come in for review. She feels like a cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse, 1,500 miles away from home. Thrown at her are the skinniest of skinny jeans, the thinnest and tiniest size ‘M’ tank she has ever seen, and a button down man-tailored workshirt large enough to fit her childhood Cabbage Pitch Kid, Candy Sherry. There’s one way in and one way out, and nowhere to hide.

She is escorted through a maze of cubicles, judging eyes everywhere, to a changing room (which was really a men’s room, an attempt at sounding sophisticated by the chief herder). With deep breath and trepidation, she undresses, and stares at the pile of clothes chosen for her with indignation, then begins. One foot in one leg, one foot in the other leg and then shimmy, jump, shimmy, button, then breathe. Tank top pulled over head, shift girls up then down, place tank in bunching position over muffin top and camaflouge adequately. Unbutton blouse, one arm in, wrist caught on button, pull without tearing, resulting in a crop top and burdensomely short sleeves. Goddamn monkey arms strike again. Button first button, then second, whoops, it’s pulling at the chest. Shit. Renegade weight rows caused broadening of back muscles. Fat guy in a little coat syndrome. Again.

Once fully draped in the constricting sample clothing, she exits and is directed to turn left into the photography room. No name or questions asked. First things first, awkward face shot. Next, frontal jean shot, lift shirt up so we can see the complete jean, then turn sideways. Quadricep/hamstring shot. Butt shot next, then other side quad/hammy shot. Done. ‘Thank you. Please exit right and give the samples to said woman standing in corner’.

a true size 8

What seemed like forever was all of 10 minutes and Tawny was once again back in street mode, bbm’ing her besties, calling her sister, to let them know of the days occurrences. When all was said and done, she strikes it up to an experience and an experiment and as Flaxen best layed it out for her ‘you did it for the cause!’. Our cause at FT, of course.

How true: to be able to relay to all of our female readers that clothes are really not made for us curvaceous, well-developed, beautiful women is really a testament of sorts; a gospel if you will. So take this bible with you: next time you’re shopping, whether you be a size 4 or 14, think back and realize you haven’t gained weight and your hips don’t lie. The apparel market has just manufactured clothing to fit skinny, embryonic, and non-existant specimens of ‘women’ once again.

With empathy and sisterly love,
Flaxen Tawny


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