Lauren B. Lentini

I received such a heartwarming response to my last post on Facebook, and I just want to say how lovely it was to hear from each of you. Every like makes me feel less alone, and the comments nearly made me cry. (In a good way.) Also, my posts usually get about a dozen views, and that one has over 80! Maybe honesty is good for SEO?

Since you guys are encouraging me, I thought I’d report back on Sunday’s self-care, opening my stitch-fix-esque box of goodies.

Ever since I Googled “stitch fix,” Facebook has been helpfully showing me ads for every single subscription clothing box in existence. Dia & Co. kept popping up, apparently liked by several of my friends. It offers styling specifically for plus sizes.

I’ve been straddling the line between average sizes and plus sizes, and I think it’s obvious from my previous blogs which side I’d rather be on. I’m only good at body positivity for other people. I told myself I didn’t want to buy a lot of clothes in this size, because I don’t want to be this size for long. I can’t even tell you how hurtful that attitude has been, punishing me every time I have to go digging around in clothes that used to fit for the few items that still do. When I decided it was time to invest in a well-fitting wardrobe, I was determined to focus on where I am right now. And I was lured in by the marketing copy about stylists who deal with my body shape all the time. So I clicked the ad and played the game.

The premise is simple: You supply your sizes and take a quiz about your style preferences; the stylist puts together a box and sends you five things to try on; you try them on and decide what you want to keep; you send stuff back and pay for the rest; repeat. There’s a “styling fee” to receive the box, but it gets credited toward anything you purchase. You also get a pretty good discount if you buy everything in the box. So it’s a gamble. Snake eyes means you don’t keep anything and lose the $20 styling fee. Double sixes and you keep everything for 25% off. Improve your odds by rating the previous items you received and giving your stylist “hints” about what you’re looking for. Avoid the bad lighting and the time suck of brick-and-mortar stores. Enjoy the delicious anticipation of wondering what will arrive on your doorstep.

My first box was a solid…OK, I have to abandon this metaphor because I don’t know craps. Red? Three out of five, anyway.

I couldn’t even wait until Jordan went to bed to open my box. I spread it out on his footstool while he drank a bottle in my lap.

I got a nice note signed by my stylist about how everyone should have the perfect pair of jeans and she hoped this would be mine, plus advice on how to style the other items. An invoice, of course, which was more reasonable than I expected. The postage-paid return bag. Some marketing material. And the good stuff, nicely wrapped in tissue.

From best to worst:

1. The aforementioned jeans, lightweight and soft in a lovely dark wash.
2. A striped top with lace sleeve inserts that made me say “ooh” when I unfolded it.
3. A floral top that ties in front, which I wasn’t sure about up until I saw Jerald’s reaction when I showed it to him.
4. The star-spangled t-shirt (is there any other way to describe a star pattern?) that I picked out.
5. A long necklace that was very cute, but Jordan would have enjoyed way too much.

As soon as I tried on the jeans, I knew I’d made the right decision about which box to go with. They really fit! And they were the right length, to boot. All of the tops fit well without making me feel like I was wearing a tent. The striped and floral tops weren’t items I would have picked for myself, but I felt like myself in them. I had steeled myself to ignore the negative voice in my head, but it didn’t make a peep! I didn’t immediately stare at my baby-less bump. I practically skipped downstairs to show Jerald the outfits. (Not really; I am not that coordinated on steps.)

I decided to keep the top three, and talking myself into spending the money wasn’t that hard. Then I went to do laundry at midnight so I could wear them right away. I packed up the rejects and put them in the mail, and I went back to the website to provide feedback about my box. I thanked my invisible stylist for getting me out of my rut without flinging me out of my comfort zone, which felt like what she was going for. She’s got to be playing a strategy game, too, to win her commission.

I was a bit worried (because that’s what I do) that my returns would get lost in the mail and they’d force me to pay for those, as well, but I got an email as soon as the post office scanned them in. The whole process has been delightful. I feel like a kid, going “When can I play again? Huh? Huh??” Next month, Lauren. Be patient. While you wait, clean out your closet and hit the consignment shop.