The other night, I legitimately cried because I couldn’t find anything to wear out. I had my whole outfit planned and when I put it on, it didn’t feel right. My friend said, “it looks so good! Why are you changing?” It’s just too damn hard to explain that the thing isn’t clinging to this thing right and the other thing is bothering me and it’s just a whole thing. It’s not as if I don’t have a bazillion clothes, but my go-to outfit (that one shirt that I wear with that one pair of jeans every other weekend) was being a complete asshole and was not wearing me right. When I went to change my outfit, I realized that I have so many clothes and I only wear a combination of like 10 things ever. Do you know how many things I have in my (3) closets “just in case”? Ladies, I know you know.
In high school once, I purged my clothes and threw out everything that I didn’t wear or fit into anymore. My mom said that I would regret getting rid of my high school t-shirts one day, so that is the moment I stopped getting rid of ANYTHING that *might* be of value to me. Don’t get me wrong, I am known to get rid of a ton of things that I know I won’t use anymore or have never worn, but there are some clothes that I can’t bring myself to get rid of in case I get invited to a theme party where I can finally wear that sequin tube top that I got at Wet Seal in 10th grade… Not that my fat-ass would fit into something I bought when I was 90 lbs lighter. Yes, I’ve gained 90 lbs since my golden years, move on people. Even since 2 years ago, I am a little heavier and can’t fit into the clothes that I once loved to wear. But will I get rid of them? No, instead I will continue to put them on every time I get dressed and get upset that the clothes are stupid and poorly made and didn’t grow with me.
The mirror is the only critic of the outfit we choose anyway. It doesn’t matter how hot or not we feel, we will still look like complete shit in photos. And that ONE TIME you find the outfit of your dreams, no photos will be taken to record this moment in history; it’s Murphy’s Law. Also, no one will care what you are wearing except mean people (me) that will judge you no matter what you wear because we’re (not) jealous that you can wear (fit into) a mini skirt and crop top in winter and be comfortable about your decision. And for some reason, we get excited to get all dressed up on holidays like New Year’s Eve. Why am I wearing leather leggings and a sequin top with heels to this dive bar in the middle of Winter… Either I will see everyone I know that will not care what I look like, or I will see only strangers that will also not care what I am wearing because they’ve never seen me before in their life. I think the thought of going out in clothes you don’t normally wear is a sort of cleanse – like, I am going to be the person I’ve always wanted to be and flirt with all the guys and make friends and end up buying the whole bar a round of shots because I look good. In actuality, I will go out feeling hot, but still unnecessarily awkward when there is no where to sit so you have to stand there and look busy, while I make my friend go up to the hot guy for me even when I pretend to attest. But, when the guy agrees to talk to me, I will compliment the outfit for its success. The other day I was with my dad and said *fanning myself*, “I don’t know why, but I get really hot when I drink.” He said, “Those are drunk goggles, sweetie.” Touche.
The worst thing about finding an outfit on the 15th try is your room ends up looking like Goodwill and you have to take your Ghost Buster’s monster vacuum out to clean up all of your clothes, at which point they all go into the washing machine even though they were never worn but you are too lazy to hang them back up or fold them. Then they sit in the washing machine too long and smell like mold so you have to wash them again, as with drying. They probably still won’t get hung up and next thing you know you are living out of your dryer and pull out options to bring back upstairs with you and they end up on your floor. Again. Those poor clothes just went through the ringer because they weren’t special enough to be loved by their owner, or washed with *color* life-saving detergent. It’s a vicious cycle, I’ll tell ya. Might as well just buy new ones.
Holding on to clothes “just in case” is never, ever going to help you, ladies. You’re not going to lose weight and fit into that dress again. You’re not going to be invited to Brian’s neon party because you’re a fucking adult (and if you’re not a fucking adult, you’re probably too young to be reading my blog). You’re not going to go to some fancy ball on NYE because you don’t have friends like that, and you are not going to decide you do actually like to wear bright colors. And, while I’m projecting, can we please end the wearing-a-bra-out-to-the-bar-and-calling-it-a-shirt trend? This shit has been going on for too long. You don’t see anyone else wearing their bathing suits or underwear at the bar, so just because it covers your nipples, doesn’t make it OK to wear as a shirt. GROW UP, PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, AND HAVE SOME SELF-RESPECT (AND RESPECT FOR THOSE OF US THAT CAN’T WEAR THAT SHIT ahem). You look like slutty Winnie the Pooh.
The Spiceful Life 