Here in Turkey there are two types of women, actually three types but we will get to that another day so just go with two types. Those who are fashionable and those who are not.
Back in Sydney I had a plethora of choices for shopping. My cup runneth over so to speak. But here in Mersin my cup is so dry it has cracked and turned to dust and I find myself wearing the same jeans day after day. After day. Why? Because I am a Rubenesque beauty. I am of abundance. I have a banging body and can shimmy like a star. Actually the real reason I am wearing the same pair of jeans day after day after day is because I am fat. Overweight. Plus + size and all that. I can say it. I am not proud of it but I will yell it from the roof top because that is me. I have boobs. They are good boobs. I have an ass. It is a fine ass. The Turk loves my fine ass but back to the problem at hand.
In Turkey fashion is designed for those women who are itsy-bitsy teen-weeny stick figurines (which I am not). Daughter can walk into pretty much every trendy shop in Mersin and find herself something amazing to wear. She hits Mavi, Berska, Pull & Bear or Zara with frequency and comes out with bags of items. I can wander around a shopping centre all day and find . . . nothing. It seems that if you are not the aforementioned stick creature then you should not be shopping at all. You should begin to purchase those baggy harem pants that elderly Turkish women wear (yes I own a pair).
Last weekend I went to The Forum with Daughter where I found myself sitting outside in the sunshine while Daughter went from shop to shop looking for the perfect outfit for her birthday party this weekend. Sure I could go with her but frankly it does my head in. I do not love shopping. I go shopping to purchase something and then I leave. The wandering up and down aisles and trying on dozens of items does not thrill me – at all. I am happy to sit outside in my jeans in the sunshine and people watch. Since it is now summer the young women of Mersin have thrown away their dignity and their modesty and are out and about in just about flipping anything. Tight jeans are a thing here now (actually they have always been a thing but I swear they are tighter than before). Denim on denim is a thing. Twinsies is a thing. Oh wait! Side boob is a thing here now. I don’t think side boob should be a thing at any time but nevertheless. Boob tubes, navel rings, inappropriately tight singlets. Boobs! Perky young boobs everywhere. Yikes! I spend all my time trying to teach Daughter that modesty and respecting your body is important and every single teenage girl is dressing like a hooker!
Jeeze I went off on a tangent again didn’t I? OK I am back. After Daughter finished we started to search for a few items for me. Actually just one item. A pair of jeans is all I am after. I am told by helpful skinny people that there are a few shops at The Forum that caters to us plus size beauties including Mango and W.C. Waikiki so Daughter and I visited a few of these shops in the hope of me grabbing a pair of jeans for my return trip Down Under. OMFG! It is obvious that designers in Turkey or perhaps Europe believe that plus size beauties do not deserve to be fashionable or perhaps plus size beauties deserve to pay three times as much as itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny women for the luxury of purchasing their items which are, honestly, less than stellar to begin with. I tried on at least five pairs of jeans in three different shops. Generally the jeans were uglier, baggier, hanging low in the crotch and saggy in the ass. I found a yellow pair that actually fitted me but they were yellow. Yellow! No one should ever wear yellow unless it is a safety vest!
So I will continue to live with my one pair of jeans for the next two weeks until I get back to Sydney. Once there, I will shop (and eat bacon).