Cleaning out closets

Posted on: December 14, 2013

I finally got off my lazy ass today and decided it was time to do some spring cleaning in winter. I have so many clothes, and with the weight gain, there are tops/bottoms/dresses that haven’t seen the light of day in a long time.

I got to the part of my closet that held my “club wear” –  cheap stuff that looks good under strobe lights and with beer goggles. Truthfully, it wasn’t THAT bad, I’ve seen worse walking around now. Some of it is embarrassing, but most of it was just in line with what everyone else wore too.

I haven’t worn the stuff in years, but held on to it for some dumb reason so it wasn’t that hard to put it all in the donate pile — but only after trying it on and being amazed at how small I used to be and cursing myself for not appreciating the body I had. Youth is definitely wasted on the young.

And then I came to the shirt pictured below. There’s nothing special about it – but I remember the day I bought it, I remember it catching my eye on the overcrowded racks at Forever 21, I remember feeling pretty when I put it on and I remember The First Boyfriend’s face when I wore it to go out with him.

And today, when I put it on (which was supposed to be just for fun), I cried.

I wasn’t expecting that to happen – it caught me completely off guard. It’s not like it’s a wedding dress or something I wore to someone’s funeral, but it still affected me.  It doesn’t fit like it used to, there are many more rolls and bumps, but that didn’t matter – I remember how I felt. And I remember how he made me feel when I put it on and he looked at me.

And I guess I’m crying because I haven’t felt like that in over 10 years now – and that’s reflected in this fruitless search for someone to love, and someone to love me back. And that’s combined with the frustration of all the online dating that goes nowhere, which is combined with the frustration of my parents trying so hard to introduce me to boys that turn out to be useless. And all of that is combined with the utter sadness of thinking things are going well with someone, only to have it taken away.

If you asked  me what I wore with British when we climbed Arthur’s Seat – I couldn’t tell you. I managed to block out most of those memories, even though that was just a couple of years ago.

But, this shirt, with it’s aquas and blues and whites, this shirt that made me think of the beach even when I first bought it, this shirt holds so much for me.

And I know I should let it go and put it in the donate pile, because it’s not really the shirt and I’ll never wear it again – in fact, even though it moved with me to Atlanta, I don’t think I’ve ever worn it here.

But I can’t get rid of it. I can’t let someone else wear my memories. So it’ll go in a box, that will go on a shelf, and it’ll hold my memories there — until I’m ready to let it go for good.








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