STRANGER THAN FICTION: A DESERTED ISLAND IN THE SEA OF FASHION

Every woman has a friend who stays on the cutting edge of fashion.

Maybe this person is wealthy, or, even more sickening, looks like a million bucks in outfits from consignment shops and thrift stores. Thrifty friends always say the same line: "This old thing? I got it for $2.50 down at the Salvation Army."

I have a friend like that. The worst is when she tries to invite me along to the aforementioned consignment shops, promising $20 wool suits with the original tags still on them.

For those of you who have tuned in late, I'm over 6 feet tall and WAY over the perfect size 8, if you get my drift. Anyone who is my size and managed to purchase clothes is hanging onto them. Trust me.

So I go to the shop and buy some antique clip earrings -- one size fits all, of course -- to save face.

My favorite stores all have a person's name or a number in it. Lane Bryant. Jean Nicole. 16 Plus

Notice we big girls aren't fat anymore. Not even overweight, stout or ample -- terms acceptable only a few years ago. Now we're plus. Got that, you skinny twerps? PLUS!

My friend Lynn and I were in St. Louis awhile back and were drawn to a Fashion Bug Plus sign with a big yellow banner under it. The banner said, "TENT SALE."

No, I'm not kidding. Someone had a tent sale at a plus shop. Is that marketing or what?

At least large women's clothing isn't what it used to be. No more Hawaiian mumus. No more polester pants just begging to be stuck to someone's ample behind. Today's plus woman can wear jeans, sweaters, crop tops, mini-skirts -- whatever she wants, as long as it isn't on the cutting edge of fashion.

It's pretty tough to look like Kate Moss when you're in a store where she'd get lost in one bra. No waifs here!

I broke free from my misgivings for the first time this year and bought two mini-skirts. At age 26, I finally shook off all Mom's instructions about bending over with your backside to a mirror before purchasing a skirt.

How could I resist? They were on a clearance rack calling my name. "Heidi! Heidi! We're sexy! We're sophisticated! We're the forbidden fruit of clothing! We're $10 each!"

I wore the black one to work one day and then met Lynn for drinks afterward, dying for compliments.

"You didn't wear that to work, did you?" she asked.

Any sentence that ends with "did you" never bodes well for the listener.

Come to find out, you could see the reinforced panty part of my black pantyhose hanging down just below the hem. Bye-bye, high fashion. It just wasn't going to work for me.

I'm a low-fashion person, myself. Sweats, no make-up, slip-on loafers, that's the life for me. I've actually walked out the door without brushing my hair on weekends. Hey -- there's nobody at Wal-Mart I need to impress, OK?

The Other Half, who's never even chewed gum in place of brushing his teeth, was waiting for me one day when I came home in my po'-white-trash outfit.

"You didn't go out in that, did you?" he asked.

Oops.

Mr. Half stays off my back about fashion these days. He knows I recently purchased a pair of polyester stretch pants.

And I'm not afraid to use them.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.