An unnatural relationship with clothes

Well, I have finally entered a dreaded stage in my complete and total wife makeover: participating in a garage sale.

When Peg (my sister in law) said they were having one next weekend, I almost choked from excitement and practically begged her to let me participate. She looked at me as though I were crazy and said..."sure...if you're that excited." (she, who couldn't quite understand my thrill at not having to actually host one myself.)

So Jeff and I began to rummage...through our respective things. He through years of DVD's and CD and computer equipment...I through closets of clothes and chochkies. I found it strangely liberating and at once, a sad good bye to days past. Of particular significance were pieces of clothing that I haven't worn in years, but simply held on to because they either represented a particular memory or time in my life. I know its weird, but I have a strangely close relationship with my clothes.

I pulled out my Bebe leopard print pants, held them up and said: "my twenty-seven year old ass looked AWESOME in these pants." (My husband dutifully nodded his head with a queer combination of imagination and intelligent agreement.)

I looked at my the bridesmaid dress I wore to my sister's wedding, and thought "that was a great, happy night....our family was loving and growing."

I held my feather boas (yes, plural - I have three!!) close to my chest and looked at Jeff and said "I just can't give these up - I want my great grandchildren to find these and wonder what kind of exotic and fun life I lead." Again, husband nodding curiously.

I looked longingly at the dress I wore on NYE 1999 and thought "I got to rock it on the turn of the millennium." It should be noted that the place where I "rocked it" that night no longer exists. I'm old.

I looked at the black, low cut, very short black dress that I had the pleasure of being a flowergirl in and remembered turning the corner at the wedding to a crowd of people trying their very best to remain composed, tears of laughter streaking down their cheeks and relived (again) a special moment of humiliation.

I grabbed some suits I bought when I first started working. I remembered how broke I was, how those suits represented a real investment to me then...and how now, my shoes cost as much as those suits did. I remembered rummaging through sales racks hoping, PRAYING to find something that I both liked and could afford.

People came to mind. People I worked with. People I laughed with. People I loved. People I thought I loved. People I thought loved me. Places came to mind. Places I laughed. Places I danced. Places I struggled.

And then, I looked in my closet and realized that THESE clothes are the clothes that will represent THIS time in my life. A happy, full time....

I put a little sticky with a price on each item..folded them gently for the last time...and placed them into a box for someone else to create a memory with. I hope those memories are as great as mine were.

I also hope I can find a pair of pants that in ten years I will look at longingly and say: "my 35 year old ass looked GREAT in these pants."

HEY - we all have to have dreams AND memories!!