A shitlady buys jeans: A story of vanity sizing and whale tears After moving to a state with actual winter, I realized that I needed a LOT more clothes so I wouldn't freeze to death. Cue me going to Old Navy to try and find jeans (I'm in love with their skinny jeans). I had been there about a month ago and gotten jeans in a size 4, so naturally i picked out some size 4s to try on...they didn't fit. I could probably have fit a second person into them the fit was so bad. How can vanity sizing me so rampant that after a MONTH the exact same fit/ cut of jean doesn't fit when the ones I have fit great???? I ended up leaving the store with a mix of size 0, 2, and 4 (seriously? How is that possible?) And let me tell you, it was an adventure trying to find even five pairs of jeans in ANYTHING below an 8...which was really like a 12. Fucking whales, and they bitch about never being able to find their size???? A size 2 should not be falling off me! As I'm checking out, I notice the ham running the register (this gon be good). I get up to the register, she looks at me, at my jeans, back at me, "Did you find everything okay?" Me: "Yeah, eventually, it's really hard to find small sizes here though." Automatic sour puss face, she starts ringing me up and I notice that she didn't take the antitheft ink whatever off one pair of jeans. Me: "You didn't take the plastic thing off those." Her: "Yes I did." Me: "No, you didn't." She reluctantly pulls the jeans back out and takes the thing off. I pay and go on my merry shitlady way with my new jeans. Sorry not sorry I ruined your day you dumpster fire. Eat less. TL:DR: Vanity sizing is stupid and ridiculous. Ham tries to ruin the jeans I finally found, I oppressed her into eating an entire cake in the backroom.