Big

The clothes in my closet come in various sizes. There's the I-used-to-be-able-to-wear-these-and-I'm holding-onto-them-because-I-swear-one-day-I'll-get-into-them-again clothes. The if-I-suck-in-my-gut-I-can-still-button-them clothes. The vertical-stripes-supposedly-make-you-look-slimmer clothes. The as-long-as-I-don’t-take-off-my-jacket-this-will-be-OK clothes. The baggy-look-is-still-in-isn't-it? clothes. The one-size-fits-all clothes.

And then there's the fat clothes. Fat clothes are the ones we all think of as temporary, the ones we resent from the moment we've tried them on in the store. Before we’ve even had the chance to finish purchasing them, we’re already taking a vow to get rid of them as soon as we possibly can. No one ever cries out "I just love this!" about fat clothes. Usually we murmur something like "At least it covers my huge ass" and then shake our heads and dream about the day we'll toss them aside and easily slip back into our beloved skinny jeans. Fat clothes are the step-children of the clothing world. We might resign ourselves to bringing them home and caring for them, but we never love them as much as we love our real clothing.

I assume that a great number of people have fat clothes. These are the pants with the elastic waist or that pair of shorts that can be worn unbuttoned when paired with an untucked shirt. For women, maybe it's that shapeless sweatshirt that really belongs to your husband or the maternity pants you still wear even though “the baby” is now studying for his PhD. Fat clothes tend to be rather plain and usually darker in color. Fancy designs or overly bright colors would draw too much attention, something fat clothes are absolutely not supposed to do. Fat clothes often come in various shades of gray. No one buys hot pink fat clothes.

It’s funny, you would think we would actually love our fat clothes. Even as children, we’re told that bigger is better. Toddlers are enticed away from diapers by the promise of wearing “big boy pants”. Children are told to eat their vegetables so they can grow up “big and strong.” First graders want to grow up into being second graders, short kids want to be taller and teenagers want to grow into adulthood.

As adults, especially over the past few years, we are told more is better. For example, if you order one donut at Dunkin’ Donuts, you’ll likely be told it’s actually cheaper to order two. At the local movie house it’s often suggested that we buy a large sized popcorn which comes with not just an enormous price tag but also in a container the size of a bathtub. We have Biggie Fries and Supersize. We have breast implants, SUV’s, collagen-enhanced lips, large print books and extra-wide trailers. There’s big hair, the Big Gulp, the big picture, the Big Kahuna, the big man on campus, Big Brother, Big Love, the big bang, big ideas, the big cheese, Big Bird, the Big Chill and Clifford, the Big Red Dog. We’re told what we all really want is to park our enormous Hummer in the driveway of our 12,000 square foot McMansion and then go inside to our cinema-sized TV. We’re supposed to want everything big, big, big. In America, bigger is best. Except, apparently, when it comes to our clothes.

It’s unfortunate, really. Those skinny clothes that we hold in such reverence don’t care much for us. Skinny clothes are like the head cheerleader in school, lightning quick with a roll of the eye and a snarky comment. You gain a couple pounds, maybe add a half-inch to your middle and those skinny clothes are looking at you and thinking “You’re going to try and put ME on? I don’t think so.” But fat clothes are more like that really reliable friend we know we can call when we need a shoulder to lean on. They don’t judge us on how we look. They’re OK if you add a little to your middle. So this Thanksgiving go ahead and add a little more gravy to those potatoes. Your fat clothes love you no matter what.