Did you ever notice that when you go to the mall they have whole FLOORS dedicated to women who wear "normal" sizes but if you need the big stuff you have to go on a search worthy of a world expedition? They usually hide it upstairs in the back of the store behind domestics or, worse yet, in the basement next to the toilets. I imagine this is so those of us with ample figures won't sully their perfectly marketed ambience by actually being SEEN shopping in their store. And forget selection!  Skinny women have twenty racks for every one of ours.

Things aren't any better at the plus size stores. Sure, everything in the store comes in your size but nothing fits into your budget. Why is it that what amounts to less than an extra yard of fabric multiplies the retail ticket exponentially?

And why do they call them plus sizes anyway? Plus what,  I ask? I am a woman, plus 100 pounds of weight that extends beyond what the chart says I "should" weigh. Can you say "fat", boys and girls? On that rare occasion I even go to the mall and have to ask some impossibly thin girly girl trying to give me an asthma attack with her pew-fume squirts all over the cosmetic counter where they are hiding "my" department, I simply say it like it is and boldly ask, "Where's the fat chick wear, Twiggy?"

I know I'm not the only fat, frustrated woman on a budget out there trying to keep from shocking the world by showing up naked or to avoid suffering the agony of donning Wally Wear and looking like every other cow in the barnyard, so I decided that I would share my collection of clothes with the eBay community. In my bargain hounding rounds I buy only the nicest things at the right price and pass the savings on to my sisters of size-not to mention the cross-dressing guys who like to buy my stuff *wink*. Fat chicks or big "girls"; it's all good : )  

Bring on those bids, ladies and gents, just remember, you are competing for purchase with all the large lovelies who work in my twin tower office building. They shop so often they have dubbed my place Val-Mart, even they know my merchandise is nicer than anything you can get down at You-Know-Where.

And, now about me: I am 50 years old and have two grown children, NOT living at home. Now, that is the measure of success!  My 28-year-old son is a tattoo artist, which means I should have been more specific when I kept urging him to use his art to make a living. Actually, I jest about that. He parlayed his freakishly awesome talent into an internationally known business where he makes more money than I will ever dream of. Not bad for a kid who didn't even graduate from high school.  My 23-year-old daughter is currently working as a licensed beautician while she now works her way through real college. That one put me through H-E-double toothpicks for 18 l-o-n-g years so she owes me. Payback will come around the time SHE has to change MY diapers!

I am newly married to my favorite Harley honey. He has a 2008 105th Anniversary Edition Dyna Low Rider and I inherited the 2005 Sportster Custom 1200. We ride in a motorcycle club of two. We have a blended family consisting of two cats. My contribution is a big black cat named Ozzy Osbourne. If Oz were a motorcycle he would definitely be the Fat Boy. That one can eat his weight in cat food!  My husband, Barry, has Rat (the Brat Cat). She often lives up to ger name. She's about as big as nothing but she can whip the tail off Ozzy Osbourne.

I have a professional job working for the State of Texas which I love, but when I am not working to support two feline non-producing consumers and a major Harley habit, I indulge my other passions. I am an accomplished photographer and engage in travel for the sole purpose of accumulating more great pictures. Of course, the pictures must be archived so I am heavily into scrapbooking, as well. I have no grandchildren yet (that we know of) so I enjoy doing scrapbooks for my young nephews who live in Houston.

My number one passion is bargain shopping and for this reason alone I am absolutely HOOKED on  eBay!  Lord knows I need more stuff, so from my new digital camera, to my heterosexual Birkenstocks, to my whole fat chick wardrobe (including the biker chick garb) I REFUSE to pay retail even though I finally have a job where I can actually afford it. I'm stubborn that way. My yuppity uppity sister with her geeky rich husband who makes piles o'cash so she can be a stay-at-home mommy says that I'm cheap. I am quick to correct her...excuse me, that's the QUEEN of cheap, thank you. I suspect she was switched at birth and so not my real sister anyway. The woman looks like a popsicle stick with hair AFTER popping out two kids.. No one genetically linked to me could possibly be so tiny. And that's the way it is in my world...

Valerie