Has anyone been over to PW's lately? She's cleaning out her closet and giving away clothes. I have to laugh. First, because everything is either a size 8 or 10 and if I don't laugh I'll cry. I was born a size 10.
Second, because I'm cleaning out my closet today, and there isn't one single thing that I would dare put on this blog for all the world to see.
First, there's the jacket I bought to wear for Easter Sunday. (I should say right now, that most of my cast-offs are not even from this century). Besides the fact that it's a shade of green that would make a leprechaun cringe, it holds horrible, embarrassing memories for me. It was only after we got home from mass that day that my family told me I had marched up to communion in front of the entire congregation with the price tag and extra buttons dangling from my armpit.
Then, there's the skirt and shell (does anyone call sleeveless, collarless tops "shells" anymore, or am I showing my age?) My 21-year-old son took one look at it and said, "I've never seen you wear that." I said, "That's because the last time I wore it, it was for your christening." Deciding then and there that I'm over pink and looking like a Happy Birthday cake, I tossed it in the ever-growing giveaway pile.
There's the skirt that drapes beautifully -- just not so much over my hips. The chunky, large knit, cowl-neck sweater, that I can wear for about 30 seconds before hot flashes have me tearing at the neck. And the pink shoes from Kathy's wedding -- a lovely shade of shell pink with pointy toes and spiked heels -- that I'll never be able to wear ever again because my feet would just cry. These, however, will not go in the giveaway pile. When I die I don't want my entire closet to be ugly "comfortable" shoes, leaving my daughter to wonder if I ever had a life.
There's the tropical print skirt I wore to my 25th class reunion. I have to say, it was a great outfit, paired with a chocolate brown v-neck, wrap knit top and strappy sandals. Kathy and I promised one another that we'll never go to another class reunion. Never again will we fret about what we're going to wear and spend hours shopping and returning outfits before finally settling on something that turns out to be another poor choice. Never. Probably. Oh, I guess it's possible we'll one day change our collective minds and decide to put ourselves through the experience again.
After weeding through miles of clothes rack, sorting my entire wardrobe into piles of "love it", "never liked it", and "those days are gone", I ended up with a couple of large trash bags filled with clothes to take to Goodwill. And a very clean and organized closet:)