I did something last night that pretty much left a gaping hole in my soul. It was something I never thought I'd do, never imagined I'd even have to think about much less face head on.

I? Shopped at Lane Bryant.

I'm pretty realistic when it comes to my post baby body. I know that I gained a huge amount of weight with my pregnancies, and I know I suck at taking it off. I'm OK with it. Yes, I'd like to be thin again, and yes, I am taking some steps to make that happen. I don't feel bad about being overweight; I don't wallow in my sweat pants, eat a bag of cookies and weep. Or, if sometimes I do, I leave out the weeping. Because I'm happy with myself. I like me. I want to lose weight, but mostly because I just want to be healthy. I want to set a good example for my children. I want to be around awhile for them.

So losing my Lane Bryant virginity wasn't a vanity thing. Nothing can screw with my vanity. No, it was because Lane Bryant thinks fat women are idiots.

The smallest size in the store is a 14 (it's fun to be the smallest size in the store for once). I know this because I asked a veteran LB shopper. I call it "LB" by the way. Because I'm just awesome enough to pull it off.

Anyway, the smallest size in the store is a 14. There's fat mannequins everywhere (though they mystically have this little space between the top of their thighs, as if that occurs anywhere in nature if you're bigger than a size 6) and you could probably pitch a tent with some of the dresses. Plus, it's called Lane Bryant, so you know it's the fat lady store. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. But all I can find in the whole damn store are sizes 2, 4, 6, and 8.

Seriously, when I can pick of a pair of slacks and the waist is bigger than my arm span? It's not a freaking size 8. Not in any universe. When I asked the little gal (who, by the way, could have worn my tennis bracelet as a belt) what the hell was going on with the sizing, she told me it was "vanity sizing".

Vanity sizing.

Really? Is it supposed to make me feel good that I can walk into LB and buy a size 2? Because it doesn't. I still know I'm fat, even if my size is a single digit. I was annoyed from the get-go, which I guess didn't help when I was trying on clothes, but come on. Eating too many cream puffs did not turn my brain into one. What an assy thing to do, this vanity sizing.

But as long as I was there I thought I'd at least try some things on. I grabbed some "size 2s" and brought them into the fitting room. Not only are they jack assedly sized, but they fit weird. They were slim through the leg (K, not flattering), big in the waist, and loose throughout the hips. The overall affect made me look like a very well endowed man with beautiful flowing hair, a really large chest, and a flawless (if a little full) face. (See? My vanity has not suffered with my expanding waist line).

Yes. I had a penis. Well, you'd think I did looking at me in those "size 2s". I've never wondered what I would look like with a penis. I've never been interested in owning that particular appendage. So the Lane Bryant Penis Pants? (Forever dubbed LBPPs in my mind) stayed right there in the store.

I may never be a real size 2 again. And that's OK. Because no matter how much weight I may gain, I'll never grow a penis. So I won't need the vanity sized pants to accommodate one. And that's really the most important thing.