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September 20, 2007
Cause Tonight, I'm Cleanin' Out My Closet
Whoda thunk I'd ever use Eminem as a source for an entry title?
I didn't actually clean it out. I just went through some things and culled a little. A very little. Three skirts, a pair of slacks and two pairs of jeans. Old jeans. Non-crotch-type jeans, of the mom style. A friend of mine is doing a set design in which she wants to decorate the set walls with clothes. Which she will then donate to Goodwill. I'm not going to wear those things again, so it's nice to know they're going to two good homes. (The theatre and then the second-hand store. Which, to my mind, charges way too much for second-hand clothes.)
All of the things I'm giving away still fit me, more or less. The jeans, the slacks, the skirts. They all fit, I just don't ever wear them. The skirts hit my legs in a bad spot and the jeans, as mentioned before, are kind of past useable (I assume they'll go straight from stage to garbage). And I'm just not the kind of person who wears slacks. The things I kept after the culling? A bunch of clothes I may never wear again.
Tonight, I held a size 10 mini-skirt up in front of my size 14 pelvis and marvelled at how tiny I used to be. And vowed to get there again.
And then I had some leftover birthday cake because, dammit, it's my fucking birthday. Or at least it was last Sunday. But I will wear those size 10s again. I will. Even if I'm no longer a jaw-dropper when I wear them.
I think that may be the hardest part of getting old(er). Men used to stop on the street when I passed by them. I could pick up a guy in a bar with a wink and a come-hither smile. Seriously. I did that once. Now, he'd just assume I had something in my eye. And buy a drink for the sweet young thing behind me.
Mind you, I don't need or even want to pick up guys in bars any more. That doesn't interest me. It's not who I am, and it's not necessary to my happiness. But no man is going to forget what he's saying the minute he lays eyes on me like they used to, occasionally. I'm not ever going to stop traffic again, even when I do get down to a 10. I'm no longer soft enough or nubile enough or ripe enough. And that just sucks.
There are some things I have let go of as I moved on. Some ideals, some images, some bad habits have fallen by the wayside, or been willfully discarded. But for some reason, I just can't get rid of my size ten dreams.
Posted by sally at September 20, 2007 09:26 PM
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