They Totallly Want My Body: Part 2. My trip to Abercrombie

I know this post is so long overdue, but I just kept forgetting about it and then when I would remember to write about it I wouldn't have enough time to completely devote to give it justice. So without further adieu...

I left for the Abercrombie and Fitch headquarters that Friday afternoon hoping to make my modeling debut. As you might have guessed, I didn't get it because I probably would have written about that if I had, and would also be wearing much more fashionable, tight fitting jeans, no doubt with riding boots, and a cable sweater tunic. But what I did gain that day was an hour full of laughter (after I got over rejection- that only took about 1.5 minutes).

I wore my newest Seven jeans, my favorite t- shirt and tried to do myself as cute as I could. I hoped in the car and headed over to New Albany. I arrived at the compound and I felt like I had been transported into Aspen or something. Pine trees everywhere and very modern woodsie looking buildings all around me. I walked my cold little tush over to the building that I was supposed to meet "Allison" at for measurements. I walked in and the music was blasting, just like it is in the stores. The guy at the front desk was wearing jeans, a faded polo (that he paid extra money to have faded) and of course his ensemble wouldn't be complete without the notorious color 'pop' up. His hair was in the pomade morph mohawk and asked me over the blaring music who I was here to see. I say, "Allison" and he tells me to have the seat in the waiting area.

I sit down and watch as hoards of people are coming by every minute. There is a canoe hanging from the ceiling above me and a floor-to-ceiling black and white of a guy with his shirt off directly in front of me. As all of these people walk past me I realize that the median age of people that work here can't be over 27. They were all young, and thin (somewhat out of place in the Midwest) wearing jeans with flip flops, or jeans with riding boots. They all definitely used their employee discounts. At this same time, I realize I'm wearing my one and only winter coat that I've had since freshman year 2003 and start to feel out of place that I'm not wearing a cardigan with a belt and skinny jeans.

They finally call me back and ask me to change into the swim suit for measurements. I do, and pray that every other model has pasty white skin like me. I stand in front of 3 mirrors and they start measuring everything they can get their hands on. I mean everything. Measurements I didn't even know existed. The last measurement they took involved "Allison" asking me to hold a yard stick to the floor and "Allison" shoving a level in between my thighs in the girly area. This, apparently, is the most accurate measurement for your inseam (who knew?). After this measurement is taken 3 times, "Allison's" voice drops slightly and she says disappointed, "Your inseam is only 29.25 inches." I ask frightened, "What is it supposed to be?" She says, "31.5" Oh no! I think! What did I do that my legs would be short?!? She acted as though I got the wrong answer on a math test- something that I easily could have figured out. Trying to act cool, I ask if I can see the chart of where all the other measurements were. "Allison" says, "you've been doing really well in the 9-10 category" Hold it right there sister! I've been a size 6 for 2 years! What do you mean 9-10?! Then she goes on to say, again, very disappointed, and you have small knees. WTF? What does that mean? Isn't it better that I have small knees than big ones? And what does that have to do with how well jeans fit me? Again, I'm rolling through these horrible defects and thinking how could I have let this happen? Why didn't I prevent short inseam and small knees? "Allison" then says that at any time if I feel that my measurements have changed, I can ask to be remeasured. Ok, cool so when I get bigger knees and my legs magically grow 1.5 inches I know I could still have another shot. "Allison" concludes our little session by asking me to leave my email address "just in case". Thanks.

I leave the Aspen like building trying to piece together what just happened. I just got rejected from a superficial company because I had small knees and my inseam was 1 inch too short. I was so bewildered. I got in the car, started the engine and drove out of the compound. Headed straight for Tim Hortons and ate 2 doughnuts on the drive home and haven't looked back since.