Sizing up uniforms

Oh god, the amount of trauma I used to get into every time I had to get a school uniform. Ours were incredibly itchy polyblends that were HOT and scratchy. The embarrassment of being measured for my high school uniform is something I will never forget. Being taller and bigger than most of the girls in my grade meant I wore much larger sizes. I stayed in the same school uniform throughout most of high school, except when the skirt and top combination got too small for me. My mother rationalised I didn’t have that long to go until the end of my schooling, so it would be a waste of time to buy new uniforms. I had to stay in the same, too tight, STILL too itchy uniform for two years. I kept the bottom two buttons undone on the blouse and didn’t button up the button on the skirt, folding it over instead.

I remember being pulled aside one day in grade 12 and told, quite firmly, by the vice principal that I had to do up the buttons on my top, as it was not in accordance with the school uniform policy. I was both embarrassed and a little defiant as I told her that I couldn’t fit into my uniform anymore and my mother wasn’t buying me new uniforms as I was finishing soon. She, in turn, became embarrassed and never bothered asking me to fix my uniform again.

When I left school, I thought that was it for the uniform worry.

I was wrong.

My first job out of school required a uniform. We could choose our own bottoms, but we had to wear the company polo shirt. My supervisor took it upon herself to order my size for me. It was, of course, too small. Not so much to be extremely noticeable, but enough to be uncomfortable. Did I speak up? I did not. I flashed back to high school and the embarrassment of uniform fitting and needing the bigger size and I kept quiet. I worked with the company for two years and never once mentioned anything about the uniform shirt.

Last year, I volunteered for something that required we wear a uniform shirt. We had the option of picking our sizes from a list and there were a good variety of sizes, something that surprised me. I put my size down on the form, no lying, no embarrassment. When it came to get our shirts, I realised that the manufacturers idea of sizing was much different to mine and my shirt was too small. This time, instead of suffering in an uncomfortable, too tight shirt, I asked my supervisor for a larger size. No embarrassment, no shame. And now I’ve done it once, I know I can do it again. If my next job requires a uniform and that uniform is too small, I will speak up.