I have a confession: I’m a clothes hoarder. I have tops from high school, jeans from college, and undies I wore right after having Tanner. Don’t judge. Us mamas know the need for such undergarments (that could be an entirely different post).
The honest truth is the clothes may fit, but they are tighter and cling to areas they didn’t use to. Some clothes are timeless and classic, like those sailor jeans I scored in San Luis Obispo and will never ever release. I’m planning on being cremated in them, actually.
When I was little, I adored going through my mom’s clothes. Prancing down the hall in her tiny heels, feeling bold stitches on the vibrant fiesta of a dress she bought in Mexico, admiring the buttons on her sleeveless blouses- the one with the tiny lines jumping up and down. Those are the clothes she wishes she’d kept. As do I.
Yet, I hang on to pieces I know I’m never going to wear. Nor will they debut in a nod-to-the-past trend. Which is fine because in all reality, jeans and t-shirts make my heart happy. Still, what life would be like if I could step out of a J. Crew catalogue daily? Perhaps I’ll start romping around parks with my boys wearing a neon polka dot taffeta skirt.
I met Li’l Mom for a walk around Huntington’s Central Park, stopping to listen to an owl lecture from a kind, bird-watching man, pausing to pet a dozen dogs, one who slobbered across mom’s entire thigh. And the whole time I’m thinking, Why am I wearing these jeans? They’re tight. I have to roll the bottom up for days. I don’t feel good in them. Yet, I still hold on to them. Why?
Do you have any clothes like that? Ones that when you put them on, you sorta just feel ‘bleh?’ Ugh, it’s the worst, right?
So I’m over it. Out with the beyond stretched out, holy, tight-fitting clothes. In with what feels beautiful and free and me. Because although I’m no fashionista, I am convinced our demeanors reflect how we feel in what we wear. And what we wear reflects how we feel inside.
My closet and dressers and undie drawer are thankful for new room to breathe. And it’s good incentive to grab myself some Hanky Panky’s (thanks for the suggestion, Linds and Stace).
What jeans or tops or five-year old bras are you hanging on to that you need to be rid of? Make a pile, throw it in a bag, and head to your local second hand store ‘cuz chances are your junk is another’s treasure.
And no doubt some presh teenager will rock your mom jeans like nobody’s business.