Say you're a man. You want a pair of jeans. You are, say, waist 33, length 35. You walk into a store, pick up a pair of jeans with those size markings, don't bother trying them on, pay for them, go home, put them on and away you go. (What am I thinking? You probably send the wife to pick them up and avoid the store altogether.)
Say you're a woman. You want a pair of jeans. You are say, size 14, average height. You walk into a store. You pick up 25 pair of jeans marked with those sizes. You try on every one of them. Two pair out of 25 fit. Twenty-two pair are too small. One pair is too large. Of the two that fit, one is the right length, the other is too long.
To add insult to injury, the lighting in the dressing room makes you look like you have hepatitis. The mirrors make you look like a beach ball, even if you are anorexic. Which I am not.
It's a conspiracy. Give me five minutes alone with the man in charge.
It just ain't fair.