Today was the first time I bought clothing in, well, I’d say at least a month or two. Since I stopped ‘influencing’, the urge to shop and consistently show off new clothes in the hopes of building relationships with brands has subsided. But I did need some new dress pants – I only have one pair – so I broke my streak and went to Reitmans who, in my opinion, have the best pants.

I always get nervous when I go into a store to shop for clothes wondering what shit show might await me in the fitting room. I’m a plus size gal, so shopping IRL isn’t usually a positive experience. Majority of the time I’m lucky to find my size in store, and even when I do, the sizing is so inconsistent it messes with my mind, self-image, and overall mood for the day. Despite my reservations, I walked into the store optimistically. I usually have good luck at Reitmans, so I felt positive. After a couple laps around the store, I took an armful of items to the fitting rooms to try on. That’s when things went down hill and fast.

One by one, the items didn’t fit; items that I thought were in my size.

With every article of clothing, I became more and more defeated, and couldn’t help but pose the following question to myself as I looked in the mirror: “Am I really this big?” Now, I recognize there’s a lot to unpack in that statement. Even those of us who have worked for years to unlearn anti-fat bias still are sometimes gripped by inner fatphobia.

I’ve preached for years that sizing up isn’t a you problem, it’s a clothing problem, but damn, knowing this doesn’t make it any easier when you’re in the fitting room trying to tug an article of clothing on your body that just doesn’t want to fit. And what happens if you can’t size up? With limited size ranges in majority of stores, sizing up is considered a luxury for some folks in plus size bodies.

It was in that moment I realized the grip the size tag has on me is still strong. I was hesitant to size up, because in my mind, a bigger size meant bigger body, and I still clearly am holding on to some notion that smaller equals better. But the truth is, a size tag doesn’t determine our body size. Currently, I have anywhere from a size 12 to 24 in my closet. Despite typically wearing a size XXL or 20, I have pants that are a size large. I have a dress that’s a size extra large. And I have a pantsuit that’s a size 22. How can we possibly base our size and worth off a number or word that sits on a tag hidden away in our clothing? The answer is we can’t. And we shouldn’t. Size tags aren’t labels, they are inconsistent units of measurement. They don’t reflect who we are on the inside. Our ability to love. Our laugh. Our smile.

Look, I get it. In the world we live in, it’s fucking hard.

But we need to remember in these rough moments that size is just one thing that makes up our entire being and that our being is made of so much more than just what we look like. A smaller pant size might provide a fleeting moment of comfort, but at the end of the day, happiness doesn’t come from what size pants we wear. It comes from within.

For the record, I ended up getting a pair of pants and two shirts. And yes, I sized up in the shirts. Because despite a brief moment of hesitation, I focused on my comfort over the vanity of a label. And I hope next time you’re battling the same issues in a fitting room, you can remember this too.