When I first got a job I didn't know what to do with the extra money. It was burning a hole in my pocket. So, of course, I did what any sensible teenager (haha...) would do...I went shopping. I was a hand-me-down dresser for most of my life leading up to that point...that, or my mom made my clothes (they weren't trendy or 'cool'...so I tended to prefer the hand-me-downs). Because of this, my enlarged income satisfied my long-time thirst for new clothes, clothes that were 'cute' (with older brothers, I wore a lot of t-shirts). This is how my collecting began.
I tried to be thrifty. I made some effort to find deals and get the most out of my money, and I did pretty well. My wardrobe grew substantially. I realized that it was easier to buy new clothes than it was to do laundry. Plus, being in high-school, I didn't have much else to put my money toward (because, heaven-forbid, I save it).
Over the following few years this collection simply grew, I discarded a few things here and there, but for the most part it only increased. I am generally the same size as I was in high-school, and everything still fits me...
But, I am female.
A misfortune of being a women is facing the ever-changing fashion trends. It feels nearly impossible to keep up.
With the seasons of fashion, my taste in clothing has changed. What was cute in high-school, and even the first few years of college, is no longer in style. What impact did this have on me? Well, it was simple. I hated my clothes. I would wake up in the morning, and if I weren't crunched for time from over-sleeping, I would sit in front of my over-flowing t-shirt assortment...and feel a complexity of emotions. Anger, at the rapidly changing trends. Sadness, for hating my once-loved clothes. Pity, for myself....and generally depressed.
Generally speaking, those emotions are rather unpleasant...so I did something...well, I did something after months and months of avoiding it. I began to dissemble my wardrobe. Pieces found new homes at Deseret Industries, with my sister, and my niece. I tried to do it slowly, but realized that getting rid of my clothes was like pulling off a band-aid. It had to be done quickly, with as little thought as possible. My sister took what she wanted, and the rest I shoved in bags that I would never again open.
This was last night and now I feel differently. Sad, because my options are nearly diminished...yet, slightly relieved.
Unfortunately, this doesn't mean my shopping bug has been cured. I still want to keep up with the nasty fashion trends. I still want to replace my wardrobe.
But I don't hate my clothes nearly as much anymore.
