I have a confession to make. I HATE getting dressed in the morning. Nix that, I hate getting dressed, doesn't matter so much what time of day it is.
It's just too hard to pick something for the day. The hardness has evolved, as all hard things do. In high school it was the whole 'try on the whole closet and leave it on the floor' kind of deal. In college it was the, "but i don't feel like wearing blue today, pink would be a better option." And now it's the "I have to save my cutest outfits for the days when I have the greatest probability of running into someone I know." It's super sad.
If only all of our clothes could be our 'cutest outfit', right? Which is exactly why I only ever buy one pair of jeans at a time, because whether I get two or three, one always becomes my favorite and the others don't get worn. Unfortunately, tops aren't as universal and those require mixing and matching. Right now I've got four that I can count on in a pinch, most days I run around in an old running shirt that isn't even mine. My favorite fauxpaus. Rummaging the racks of Goodwill searching for racing shirts that I never raced. It can make an embarrassing moment when someone asks you about it, but who cares, right? I love running, I don't need to pay a $20 entry fee to qualify myself as a 'runner'. I pick them up for $2 a tag and wear them proudly.
Right after high school I went through a crazy shirt-making phase where I bought cheap, fruit of the loom undershirts and would print a phrase out in bold and staple it under my shirt before tracing over it with a tube of puffy paint. I didn't even realize the collection I had until I was doing laundry one day and found a whole load of whites waiting for me, all t-shirts that I had branded. They were the best. Paired with a lace undershirt for special occasions and a solid for every day. Thinking of that, Alaska and I should start sporting some home-made shirts. Matching girly ones. Where one part of the phrase is on my shirt and the other half on hers. She's almost big enough where I can get them in a package of three. *note made*
Sundays are seriously the hardest days to get ready. Hands down. Slapped down flat on the table.
You don't want to look like you tried too hard, but you need to look like you tried, and your hair has to match the style of dress your wearing and if you're doing a skirt and shirt duo you've got to create that outfit, complete with shoes. Which is why I greatly prefer dresses. Takes three quarters of the problem out of your hands that still have red prints on them from being slapped on that table.
I've recently found two sites that I can rely on for dresses. Mikarose and jenclothing. They are life-savers and for the past two times I have needed a new dress to add into the mix I have gone to them. Bonus, for thanksgiving everything is 50% off. I am waiting and saving to stock up.
I also am forever hunting around at thrift stores for dresses. I have thrown on more than one under-shirt to complete a dress that originally has no sleeves. Aint no shame here.
Which brings us to the reasoning for this post. I am trying to kick out all my skirts that haven't been worn in the past two years. This is harder than you think. I have my reasons. a) it has such good memories attached to it. b) I haven't been the size I need to, to be able to fit into it again, until now c) it looked so cute with that one shirt d) smokin' hot deal
I know I should just let them all go. They seem so juvenile to me, now that I have become a true woman and back again. Meaning I gained x amount of pregnancy weight and then have lost it all. But they have such sweet memories, all of them. They were with me in all my high school awkwardness and followed me to college where I thought I wasn't as awkward, but maybe I was. And now I haven't worn them in so long, and it's hard enough to pick one thing to wear to church, let alone try to pair a skirt and shirt together.
I guess what I am trying to say is, it's time to say goodbye. And in order to do that, I need some closure and I need to talk it out. I mean, they're just skirts for goodness sakes! Let them go! Except for when I see them, I remember all the great times we had together. The EFY dances. A couple of dance nights, clubbin' it up in Portland, swing style. A long walk I had with Handsome Husband after devo at BYU-I when we were still trying to figure each other out. They're right there, wound into the very fabric those skirts are made of. And really, that's it. Except for these are the survivors. I have had my share of skirts. Weeding out and adding more, plenty of times. Yet these, these have stood the tests and have shown their valiance through many packings and un-packings.
Thinking of it, I could give them up to someone else. But what if they didn't treat them the way that they needed to be treated? What if they didn't know the history those skirts held? It would be better to give them to a generic thrift store than someone I know, in fear that I worry about them too much and still have too much connection. Or I could make them into a quilt of some sort. After all, isn't that what quilts used to be made of? But seriously, even the thought of that makes me squirm a little. After all, I don't need all those memories bundled around me all the time. It's just nice to see them, patiently waiting for me when I open a drawer.
And that's what happens. The hardness of getting dressed used to be just hard, but now on top of all the other hard things I do to get this little family of mine out the door on time on Sundays it has become too hard. I know those skirts need to go, I just needed to talk it over a little bit.
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