Saturday, September 20, 2008
Yesterday, I conquered something big. Something very big. At least for me.
When I was little, I was a husky child. Remember that term. That used to be the section at Sears where my mother bought my clothes. As a teenager, I began wearing clothes from the Men's Department because nothing from the Boy's department was big enough. Even though I was a "bigger" child, my mother still dressed me in corduroy pants and horizontal-striped shirts. Needless to say between the enhancing of my width and the theme song that emitted from my thighs rubbing together as I walked, I was traumatized. So traumatized that when I began to create my own wardrobe, I swore NEVER to wear any corduroy pants or horizontal-striped shirts.
About four years ago, I spotted an ADORABLE pair of red corduroys. I tried them on. THEY FIT!!!! And they fit well. I was so excited that I bought two pairs. I felt empowered. I had gotten over my 20-year old fear. I continue to buy corduroys. I actually love them. They are part of my winter attire.
Two months ago, the husband and I decided to get rid of some of our clothes. We went through our closet and ended up donating about four garbage-bags of stuff. I may have even blogged about the fact that I got rid of seven pairs of shoes. What I may have not mentioned was that I had gone through the husband's donations and found four t-shirts that I decided to keep. Three of them still had their price tags on. One of the reasons I kept them was because I am currently on a self-imposed moratorium on purchasing any shirts or tops of any kind. The shirts were the same style and in two colors: gray and blue. The thing was they were thick horizontal-striped t-shirts. I held on to them. I tried a couple times to wear them out but ended up changing.
Until yesterday. I wore one to work. The world did not collapse. Life, as I knew it, did not end. And better yet, I did not fell like that 17-year-old confused boy who was self-conscious and horribly aware of his "uniqueness". I survived. I wore another today. It was very liberating. I am still wearing it as I type this. I've conquered my two fashion fears. Next stop: drawstring pants. Baby steps, baby steps. Later.
When I was little, I was a husky child. Remember that term. That used to be the section at Sears where my mother bought my clothes. As a teenager, I began wearing clothes from the Men's Department because nothing from the Boy's department was big enough. Even though I was a "bigger" child, my mother still dressed me in corduroy pants and horizontal-striped shirts. Needless to say between the enhancing of my width and the theme song that emitted from my thighs rubbing together as I walked, I was traumatized. So traumatized that when I began to create my own wardrobe, I swore NEVER to wear any corduroy pants or horizontal-striped shirts.
About four years ago, I spotted an ADORABLE pair of red corduroys. I tried them on. THEY FIT!!!! And they fit well. I was so excited that I bought two pairs. I felt empowered. I had gotten over my 20-year old fear. I continue to buy corduroys. I actually love them. They are part of my winter attire.
Two months ago, the husband and I decided to get rid of some of our clothes. We went through our closet and ended up donating about four garbage-bags of stuff. I may have even blogged about the fact that I got rid of seven pairs of shoes. What I may have not mentioned was that I had gone through the husband's donations and found four t-shirts that I decided to keep. Three of them still had their price tags on. One of the reasons I kept them was because I am currently on a self-imposed moratorium on purchasing any shirts or tops of any kind. The shirts were the same style and in two colors: gray and blue. The thing was they were thick horizontal-striped t-shirts. I held on to them. I tried a couple times to wear them out but ended up changing.
Until yesterday. I wore one to work. The world did not collapse. Life, as I knew it, did not end. And better yet, I did not fell like that 17-year-old confused boy who was self-conscious and horribly aware of his "uniqueness". I survived. I wore another today. It was very liberating. I am still wearing it as I type this. I've conquered my two fashion fears. Next stop: drawstring pants. Baby steps, baby steps. Later.
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