#I can't order clothes online anymore and trying stuff on at the store isn't fun like it used to be because I don't like how I look

[jellogram]

None of my clothes fucking fit me anymore and I'm like leaning over the bathroom counter gritting my teeth going "this is fine this is fine this is fine" because I'm trying to dress cute for my night out but I haven't dressed cute in so long that none of my cool clothes fit me and I look ridiculous and I want to cry. I'm trying really hard to be okay with my weight but I have this really nice leather jacket I got for my birthday a few years ago and it's too small for me now.

[sixofpomegranates]

Can you write one where Spencer Reid goes shopping for lingerie with his plus sized girlfriend??

♜ 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 ♞ -𝚂.𝚁.

A/N: !Skin Color & Ethnicity Neutral! Saleswoman experience straight from my own trauma. 🥲

CW: slight angst, fluff, comfort | Mentions of Weight/bullying, insecurity about body, anxiety, pining, self-hate,

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*picture does not describe the looks of the reader*

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Is there anyone comfortable with buying clothes in a store anymore?

Is there any chubby girl that is comfortable with it?

What about underwear?

I feel like buying underwear in a store is even worse.

I'm a girl of bigger size. I never fit in anything small ever. Puberty gave me a J-Lo butt but didn't spare me from having the rest of my body fit the new curves.

Online shopping became a thing when I was out of the woods, when I was old enough to have the damage of judging, skinny girls in trendy shops embedded in my mind.

There is nothing worse than standing next to your friends that pick the cutest outfits, and you just know that the biggest size in the store is maybe a 6.

Well, there is. Having a saleswoman come up to you, looking you up and down and telling you they don't cater to your size... Have been there. I cried for the rest of the day.

This is why I love online shopping.

Sure, we can go into details about how it's terrible for the environment to order things and send them back... But the feeling of safely trying on stuff at home?

Not having to stand in front of mirrors that, combined with the harsh lighting, make you hate yourself?

Being able to take the clothes off and just send them back if they don't fit, without the looks of a skinny woman on you?

It is indescribable. It changed my life and my relationship with my body.

Sadly, sometimes you are out with your boyfriend... And men rarely struggle with their body image. They definitely can as well, don't get me wrong, but a sweetheart like Spencer that never has to watch his calories because he stays a skinny pretty boy no matter what? He isn't fully aware of how women still compete with each other when in stores.

He doesn't know the nervous feeling of looking through the sizes of the rack, eyes on you, mouths snickering that you won't find something your size anyway, or that you maybe have luck at the store selling tents.

Yes, we're now in a time where women start supporting each other, strangers ready to throw fists for you to stand up for what's right, but we still have a long way to go.

Women are still trained by society and social media to compete with each other to fit social norms and acceptance. Hopefully, our children will never have to feel like we did growing up.

Going to a mall for a shopping date between Spencer and me isn't something new. He loves having me around when running his errands and then just calls it shopping dates which end with me getting treated for dinner.

But the last couple of times we were intimate, Spencer discovered what fun it is to rip my underwear from my body and go completely feral.

Needless to say, when we passed the store I usually order from online, he pulled me in to replace the ruined pieces and maybe find some more things for me to feel sexy in.

One year of dating, and I am still not entirely sure if he's aware of the issues I have with my body. I am honest about my struggles nowadays, but he just has this smile and way of talking about me and my looks that make me feel like he can't see any of my insecurities.

The women working here come in all sizes and colors; one woman even wears a hijab. It makes me feel comfortable shopping for my underwear; these are all beautiful, friendly, non-judgmental women that just make me feel normal.

Buying clothes should make you feel like this. Normal.

After grabbing some of my favorite panties, ones that don't roll under your stomach when you sit down and actually cover your whole butt and not just one cheek, Spencer and I wander off to the more sexy clothes.

I practically jump at the garter belts in bigger sizes and the tights made for big thighs, and when I turn in Spencer's direction, he lifts a purple lingerie set.

"Please," he says, looking at me with his puppy eyes.

I take the set from him. It's pretty. Expensive, but underwear is expensive nowadays anyway... And fuck, this is sexy.

The waistline has a tough elastic band. I have a soft stomach, so I fear it could leave a visible line through my clothes and make me look like a pressed sausage.

"I don't know..." I whisper, noticing that Spencer has already picked my size. "You'd look so pretty," he insists, and I sigh. "It's underwear. It's not like you'd see it much anyway."

"It's lingerie. Made to be seen by those worthy and make you feel sexy and confident knowing you're wearing it," he corrects me, wiggling his eyebrows.

In theory, I want it. In reality, I fear never wearing it because I could feel ridiculous in it.

Since my youth, I have refused to try on things in stores. You could say that it's a coping mechanism to protect me from past discrimination.

If it doesn't fit, I lack the guts to return it.

Staring at the piece for a while, I decide to take the risk and toss it into my shopping basket. Should the set not fit properly, it'll become something solely for the bedroom to make Spencer happy.

"You win," I tell him with a smile as his grin widens. "Happy?" He nods. "The happiest," he answers, pressing a kiss onto my forehead.

We look around some more and finally pay, the cashier telling us how to ensure the items are returnable should they not fit.

Hearing that the tag must still be attached to the article, Spencer promptly removes it from the purple lingerie set. "We're definitely keeping that," he whispers into my ear, smiling his boyish grin.

Finally, at home, I find a moment to myself. I walk into my bedroom and try on my new underwear. Everything fits as perfectly as always. But I still haven't tried on my lingerie.

I actually dread it.

I undress from everything and stare the set, laid out on my bed, down.

I don't fear trying it on. I shouldn't fear trying it on.

It's just clothes... But the initial feeling of disappointment when things don't fit or looked better on you in your fantasy...

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, I try on the set.

As predicted, the waistband is a little tight at my stomach. It's not as bad as I expected it, but old habits die hard, and I still try to search for the blame on myself.

From the front, everything looks like a dream. The bra sits perfectly, doesn't pinch or make my boobs look pointy in a way that screams Madonna's cone bra. The panties give my body an hourglass look.

It's perfect, except for the way the panties slightly dig into the soft fat of my belly.

Spencer knocks politely before coming in. The second he sees me, his jaw drops to the floor.

He walks over, sitting down on my bed. "You look so pretty," he whispers.

I turn to the side, running over the small roll the underwear creates. Spencer's eyes follow my hands; I know he sees this imperfection.

"Do you think?" I ask him, and he nods eagerly. "I'm so lucky to have you," he answers, lovesick.

"I don't like the roll it creates right here," I say in an act of self-sabotage, thinking I could get him to agree.

"Is it uncomfortable?" he asks me instead. I shake my head, and he nods, "I didn't notice it before you mentioned it. It's not a big deal, honestly. It's still hot as hell. Thanks for letting me buy it."

Suddenly I feel like giggling. Apparently, Spencer does see all the parts I am insecure about; he just doesn't give a fuck about them.

I look beautiful to him, and the only person finding something they don't like about things I want to feel sexy in is myself because I was taught to dislike my body and find problems with it.

Looking into the mirror again, I start feeling silly. You really don't notice the roll if you don't concentrate on it. I run my hand over the expensive material, feeling a burst of confidence run through me.

I turn around as Spencer giggles. "What?" I ask, and he reaches out for my hand. I take it, and he pulls me onto the bed. "I just like having a pretty girlfriend," he states, kissing me softly.

Pretty girlfriend. I like being his pretty girlfriend as well.

As I pull away, I press a kiss on his flushed cheek. "I'm lucky to have you too, Spence."

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