I'm conducting my annual purge the closet exercise, which is all the more urgent given that we're getting ready to relocate to my beloved hometown of San Francisco [more on that saga later], and I came across a pair of dark brown leather pants. They are simple, stylish, not overtly rock 'n' roll, with a slim cut, no pockets, and a subtle boot cut leg. I try them on. I cannot pull the zipper up. I am flabbergasted. For you see, these fancy pants are pre-pregnancy, pre-Chicago, pre-a whole lot of things. They fit perfectly well seven years ago!
Goddamn it.
I'm not sure why I'm even perturbed about it. I've had no occasion to wear leather pants, first of all. I can't complain about not shedding any pregnancy weight gain. I can't even complain about my post-pregnancy body because, yes, things are not as jaunty and firm as they once were, but neither has everything gone to pot. Entirely. I know better than to bare my midriff these days, at any rate. My vanity has only gotten a flesh wound in this instance.
But they're cute on, and it kills me that they will never grace my body with their cuteness again. Off they go to the thrift store [where I found them in the first place] for some other soul to discover.
3 comments:
I loved that post and can totally relate. And it's a reminder to me that I SOOO need to do the same and purge that closet of mine.
I love the midriff comment. My thoughts on that: Even if we still look great and *could* bare our midriffs that doesn't mean we should. That's just one of those things you don't do once you hit your mid-thirties and beyond.
but i thought 40 was the new 30. if so... bare the midriff!
:)
I NEVER bared my midriff. Well, maybe when I was 14. But not since I was old enough to vote!
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