Dear fashion industry

*Note - some of you have read this before. I've posted it on facebook and such ages back, but, I figured it should actually be added to my real blog.*

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pam Hester. I'm a [junior] at Oakland University, studying literature, theater, and political science.

Now that I've introduced myself, I shall cut right to the chase - the style of clothing that is prominent in practically every single store royally sucks. Forgive me for being so bold, but, it took me over 6 days, 9 stores, and 30+ trips to the dressing room to find a suitable dress for a wedding.

Here's the deal - I'm curvy. That does not mean I'm fat - that means that I have breasts and hips. Now, your new line of clothing doesn't quite suit women who have even a slight hint of "mammers" or a wee bit of "junk in the trunk" as the young ones like to say these days. It's incredibly inconvenient for a multitude of reasons. Allow me to list why:

1. The new line of dresses and shirts make all women look like they're Prego the Momma Fish (in case you don't get the reference, that means pregnant).
2. The new line of dresses and shirts are also bright, vibrant colors that don't go well together at all, thus resulting in all women looking like pregnant hippies that have no sense of color coordination.
3. Big, flashy bows, ribbons, or sequins around my breasts really isn't necessary - I don't need a dress that makes my boobs look like a fucking Christmas present.
4. Because all of the new clothing has some sort of FUBAR pizazz to it, the prices are going up. Glitter, sequins, bows, multiple colors - it costs me (a poor college student struggling to pay bills, fill the gas tank, and save for a new car) a bloody fortune.

So please note - sometimes, a plain, simple, chic, and sexy black dress for a wedding is quite alright. Even for every day events, simple t-shirts and non-skin tight jeans work just fine. In fact, I kind of like carpenter style jeans or cargos for chicks. I don't need to be, nor do I want to be, a hoochie momma. So quit making every single fucking store 1.) unbelievably expensive, 2.) sell terribly hideous clothes, and 3.) create sizes and styles that make every woman feel like a bloated walrus who just ate 3 Big Macs and a few crunch wrap supremes.

May the gods smote you with horrible boils, giant frogs, rabid squirrels, and genital warts until you decide that it's time to design a new line of fashion.

Thank you. Have a nice day.