The fitting room

Its a funny thing.
Trying on clothes that is. It is amazing how depressing something so simple can be. It starts out innocent enough.
I pick it up. Turn it around. Look at the washing directions and the material. I stay away from dry clean only things. For the most part, I try to stick with cotton and other blends that breath and don't fall apart after a few washes.
If it meets my criteria it becomes inevitable. I have to make the journey. For me this journey usually ends in humiliation of some sort. Unless I am trying on sweat pants or sweatshirts. I do look great in a crew neck cotton sweater, let me tell you. I think that is where the line is drawn.
I have no idea what the problem is. I'm average height and weight. I have a small waist. Proportionate hip, butt, thigh ration. Regular sized boobs. In my opinion I'm average. I feel like clothes should be made to fit girls like me. I have normal curves. Maybe a little extra love to handle, but that's not uncommon. I just don't understand.
Trying on clothes shouldn't send me into an emotional downward spiral. However, 9 out of 10 times it does.
Do they even use women for models these days? I feel like they use little boys. Maybe they put bras on them just to emulate boobs.
All I know is that I'm standing underground waiting too long for a train and I am mad. Just plum mad. Buying clothes shouldn't be this hard. So why is it.
Why are these textiles being made is surplus when they do not fit the average girl. Who is going to buy them? It just isn't realistic.
If you want people to buy your products, them make them for the people. Its foolish not to.
I may be biased. If I am so be it. All I know is I am not dropping 10 lbs and eating hardly anything to be able to fit into clothing that is too highly priced and poorly made.
So fuck it.