Tonight, I cleaned out my closet to get rid of some stuff to donate to charity or whatever and I dug DEEP this time. I usually do a clean out every year just to get rid of stuff that makes it look like I have tons and tons of clothes when really I can never find anything to wear. Anyway, I usually only ditch the crap that was soooo last season or soooo not cool anymore. (Like, totally, for sure!) This allowed me to keep the things that I was still attached to in some way or another. But tonight, I dug deep enough to feel traumatized after I was done.
I wasn't really planning on keeping this stuff until I was 90? Right?
Oh my gosh. I pitched things that made me feel like I was breaking up with an old boyfriend or something. I still had the tank top I wore the day I got my driver's license. I had a satin tank top I wore under a business suit to go on my first interview. I had the cute little pink t-shirt I wore out to the bars the night we got married when we decided to ditch the honeymoon suite to party with our peeps until the wee hours of the night. I had a black sweater from freshman year of college that was probably soaked in more beer than it was ever washed. Pieces of my heart. It all came rushing back and I had to face why I never wanted to get rid of them in the first place.
Then there were clothes that I was so happy to get rid of that I cussed them into the donation pile. Work clothes. "Business casual" uncomfortableness. Button up shirts, dry-clean only pants, sweaters... I'm a comfort girl as it is. And when I was working, I was completely guilty of stripping in the foyer the second I walked in the door before it even had a chance to fully slam behind me. I could be in sweat pants and a t-shirt faster than you could blink an eye. I almost felt like I had to hold myself back from burning those clothes! I was ripping them off the hangers and even mumbled, "YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!" to the two or three pieces that never quite fit right that I constantly had to tug on or adjust. It felt so freeing and for a moment I wallowed in the perks of being a stay-at-home mom and getting to wear sweat pants as much as I want to!
Anyway, I took pictures of the clothes I had emotional attachments to before I folded them away forever. It really was sad but I figured that a picture serves me just as well and takes up way less space in my closet. Plus, it's a good cause. I'll get over it.
(I'll admit... I still kept a few things. It's like I'm a crack addict. I have problems.)
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