I don’t think I realized how disproportionate I am, by clothing standards, until my friends started getting married.

I was pretty thin when I tried on my first bridesmaid dress, and I had to gather a fistful of satin in the back of the sample so it wouldn’t fall right off my body. But when I went to order my gown, the saleswoman looked at the size chart and told me I needed a size larger than the sample. When I challenged the assessment, she pointed to the measurements. Sure enough, there was my waist measurement, several sizes larger than my bust and hips.

My body, and size, has changed a lot since then, but the reminders of my apparent freakishness have not. There was the introductory assessment at the gym in North Carolina, where I learned that my shoulders are quite broad (manufacturers of shirts and coats have reinforced this observation). There are the times when I have to wear a helmet for work, and I can’t get a small or medium on my apparently oversized noggin (I have a lot of hair, OK!?). There’s the fact that my wrists are too small for even “petite” adult watches. And, of course, no pants in the history of the universe have ever fit exactly right.

It’s really easy to get down on yourself or feel like a freak when you try on a pair of jeans that is too large in the waist, too small in the thighs, and tight across the butt while somehow still standing out an inch from your hips on either side. Or when you have to go up a size in tops just to be able to move your arms. Or when a store advertises a certain item or type of clothing as universally flattering, and that item looks absolutely hideous on you.

But I’ve talked to a lot of my friends and family members about this, and realized that my body isn’t the problem, and neither is anyone else’s. I don’t look freakish, horrifying and crazily out of proportion. I am quite sure I look like a regular human.

The real problem is the way clothes are made and marketed. In what I can only imagine is an effort to make them fit as many people as possible, they actually end up fitting almost no one perfectly. After all, if I’m slightly under 5’4″ and wear either regular-length or short-length pants, depending on the brand, what do girls who are 5’10” wear? What about girls who are 4’11”?

And if my waist is so large, proportionately, then why are the waistbands of my “perfect fit” pencil skirts so loose? I can’t even blame that one on old-timey sizing that is based on hourglass curves!

Unfortunately, I don’t really have a good solution for you here. I (obviously) have trouble finding clothes that fit, too, and I don’t really want to have to get everything altered. I know it’s hard to feel confident about yourself when each one of your measurements lines up with a different size, when ads are telling you the clothes that look terrible on you are designed to fit and look great on everyone, or when you find a new brand that says it’s designed for “real bodies,” but they don’t even carry your size.

But I hope that the next time you try on something that doesn’t fit properly, you’ll think of this post and realize you aren’t alone, and it isn’t your body that’s the problem.