Over the past six months, through a lot of exercising, sweat, portion controls and clean eating days I’ve gone down seven pant sizes in clothing. Not to brag, but I have to say to myself, “Damn girlfriend you done good!” However, as the result I’ve been left with a plethora of clothing that no longer fits. What’s a girl to do? Fortunately for me, our parish is hosting a clothing drive this weekend. As such, I spent much of the last week and a half emptying out closets, drawers and boxes in the basement.
Several things struck me as funny…
The large assortment of very ugly Christmas sweaters I have to choose from this year. What the heck I was thinking back in the day?
Another was finding a mock turtleneck dickie that my mom had given me to wear. Remembering she had given me the seldom worn ugly garment and wondering if the reason I kept the darn thing was more out of sentimental reasons than practical ones.
Was wool ever a popular fashion? Because lord, I found six white/beige wool sweaters, all in varying sizes, none of which fit, all women’s. Obviously, Marsha’s fashion world collapsed once more.
Then I came across a box of boy clothes for maybe a two-year-old and I immediately could see my bay running around in his blue onesie sleeper looking so cool. Or the Elmo bathing suit which matched the doll’s hair color as a baby and I tried my best to reconcile why I didn’t need to hang onto them any longer. Then I lifted a shirt to my nose, took a nice whiff and said, “Yep this no longer smells like my babies, time to go…” and into the bag they were placed.
But I came across some unusual stuff too…
The doll’s first ultrasound pictures. I called her into the room and said, “What do you think of your first picture?” Studying the sideways profile, she replied, “I look odd…” Smiling back at her I said, “Well somethings never change”. Which brought about a faux slap to my arm.
Under clothes in another drawer, I found three letters to Santa. Oh, what memories they each provoked upon reading them. I especially liked the boy telling Santa he’d been a good boy for quite some time and in true form, he also asked Santa not to forget his sister and bring some peanuts for his father.
All told, I gathered up eight bags full of clothing to donate on Saturday and rekindled some very cherished memories in the process.