This Saturday I tackled a project. Something I have been dreading. My nemesis, if you will.
In full disclosure, I tend to be a packrat in all matters of my closet. I have a hard time getting rid of clothes. Either they hold sentimental value, or I think I will wear them again.
Which I wont.
For example, the khaki capris I wore for my high school senior picture. I have not worn them in probably 6 years. Yet, for some reason they keep staying with me. Why? They are out of style and I am sure they dont fit. (I saved my self from depression by not trying them on). Or the stretchy black pants with silver pinstripes I actually used to wear to work in college. These should have never been allowed. Oh, and the maroon Abercrombie sweatshirt I wore religiously. Why did I shop there? I know see the errors in my ways.
These clothes take up space in the back or stacked in a hamper in my closet. I have not worn them for years. And on Saturday, I finally decided to clean them out. They had made too many moves with me from dorms to apartments to my current house. It was time.
And yet, as I went through the clothes I felt a little sad. The aqua polo reminded me of the day I moved into college. The blue sweater was a gift from my boyfriend. I bought the silver tank top at H&M in New York. The black shirt I wore to my grandpas funeral. So many memories attached with these old clothes.
But now, now they are bagged up ready for Goodwill. Where hopefully someone else will benefit from them.
Oh! But look at what else I found....
My pink razor! Man, I loved this phone. Those of you who had a pink razor, will, I am sure, agree. This phone saw me through many, many late night phone calls to my boyfriend. You know, those calls you try to make discreetly and quietly in your dorm room,while your roommate lays three feet away. Totally listening, but acting like they cant hear. You know what I am talking about. We all did it.
Oh, and remember these? What IS this thing?