Today was an entirely strange and unpleasant day.
It started with the realization that Summer Had Gone again, at least for now - it is back to almost-wintry cool-and-grey-and-stormy-ness.
As I type this, raindrops are starting to splatter against my windows; by the sound of it they measure as much as the egg of a midsized pigeon, each.
To properly celebrate the last day of my spring break, I got it in my head to go shopping today - clothes shopping no less - starting at American Apparel.
I never really noticed this when I was still skinny - but they appear to be quite sizeist.
They really seem to have a sizing policy that is designed exclusively for those flesh-and-bone-skinny twigs on legs that we'd all want to look like, the ones that I idolize and strive to imitate physically, the ones that I am woefully far from emulating at this point.
I only tried on a few items, but I could barely squeeze myself into a size M with most of them, despite the fact that I am now at the lower end of normal according to BMI.
Even the Bra that I tried - Jesus Christ on a stick, my boobs are rather on the small side, but an AmApp size M is about two sizes too small for them regardless.
I used to leave shitloads of money at that store, but today I walked out without having bought a single item, as is the irrevocable fate of the fat person at the clothing store.
Then I went and blew a small fortune at Zara - on clothes that were labeled size S and actually fit me, one particularly freakishly sized jacket still fitting loosely in XS even.
That just goes to show, as it has been proven many times before, how tremendously you can affect your sales and influence your customers through sizing policy.
How much of a difference it makes, whether the sizes you employ give them the illusion of being skinny - or the illusion of being fat.
Then, when I was barely out of the changing room, my mother called.
She had been assaulted on the street by a Random Old Crazy Guy, who set his dog on her before pushing her to the ground and starting to kick her and the grocery bags she had been carrying with great abandon.
An absolutely random attack, absolutely bizarre and therefor all the more frightening, absolutely traumatizing to my mother, evidently.
She was lying on the ground sobbing when she called me, by the time I arrived a friendly young man from one of the neighbouring apartments had also come down to help her, and the police arrived not soon after.
I accompanied her to the station, where she gave her statement so that charges might be filed against the assailant, and to the doctor to document and treat her injuries.
Neighbours that had gathered at the scene told us that the man was notorious for incidents like this one, and had attacked many a passer-by in a similar fashion before, while the police said that probably nothing could be done about it unless something "really bad happened" one day, like the dog maiming someone in a severe and lasting fashion.
It's instances like this, really, that make you see for a moment why self-justice and vigilantism might actually seem like a good idea.
When I came home I was slightly shell-shocked and shaky from all the excitement; I made myself dinner, a large one, and didn't even feel bad about eating it as it seemed like an utter necessity in order to calm down and replenish my energy.
Tonight I am due to go drinking and clubbing with friends, so there will be alcohol, and even more calories.
It has been a bad day in regard to calories, but then again it has been a bad day in regard to pretty much everything else, so I'm figuring what the heck.
I'm sort of out of the loop, I would like to go to bed early and look forward to getting up right before dawn for my customary run - still I feel like I should not pull out of the group activity, lest I become a complete recluse which I am constantly on the verge of, anyway.
