A Closet Tale

This (of course) is not my actual closet. But it's pretty darn close. (I don't think I've ever taken a cake in there.) Cleaning it out was daunting.

When you have a large closet, it's very easy to fill. Clothing and accessories add up. Even though I'm not a shopper, I am also not very good at getting rid of things. The luxury of lots of space quickly became a dumping ground. Even I had to admit it was ridiculous. Tons of outdated clothing or items I would never wear again were squished against each other. Accessories and miles of shoes were on top of each other. Old business suits were neighbors with bad resort/vacation clothes. In the middle of the mess, I was able to identify a few items I actually wear.

Also, we used to keep boxed photos in the basement. After a pipe leak or some other disaster we re-boxed thousands of photos (without any organization or cleaning out the duplicates) and stored them in one of the guest room closets. When the Captain and the Belle moved in, we moved all of the boxes to my closet.

I also found miles of yarn and semi-completed knitting and crocheting projects. I rarely do either of these activities any more. And to top it off, excess wrapping paper, miscellaneous cards and ribbons, and wrapping supplies were crammed in a corner.

Sounds like a pretty picture, doesn't it?

I have completed about 90% of the clean up. Since I am emotionally attached to many items -- even ones I will never use or wear -- it has been difficult. I find myself thinking, "Oh, I wore that when we ..." At that moment, I want to hang on to it. Instead I am training myself to hang on to the memory.

Garanimals

Do you remember Garanimals? It was a clothing line that helped children learn to dress themselves yet still match. A top with a monkey tag could be paired with shorts or pants with a monkey tag. I have no idea if this product still exists but I thought it was brilliant.

Yesterday I went to the bank and the grocery store. Some adult people in this town need Garanimals.

I fantasize about Garanimal tags with the X through it. That would mean: Never wear this again!

Since I work from home, I am guilty of choosing comfort over fashion. When I leave home, I try to step it up a notch but I often fall into my rut. Black pants and white t-shirt. White pants and black t-shirt. Jeans and a black or white t-shirt. Adding kicky shoes or accessories is about as far as I go.

I was meant to live in New York.

Body Parts

Men used to announce, "I'm a leg man." Or, "I'm a breast man." I have no idea if young men still do this -- I'll have to ask the baby -- but it always stuck with me.

Many body parts betray us as we age. Some parts get wrinkly and droopy. Others just diminish, like eyesight or hearing.

I am not a young person but I'm not an oldie either. One of my favorite things about the Belle was her absolute refusal to be old. Kicky clothes and kicky shoes made her happy. She was the Queen of Accessories. I was taking notes.

My mother asked me to stop writing about our weird legs. Sorry! You can't tell me what to write. I have been fighting these legs my entire life. Throw in a major dose of middle age and suddenly, they're not just weird shaped. Now they have wrinkly knees (too much sun) for added fun.

When I was a child, my friends Kim and Angel had beautiful legs. I haven't seen Angel in years but Kim still has them. Jan has gorgeous legs. My friends Mickey and Cynthia have serious gams. I've made the mistake, more than once, of being photographed next to one or all of them in a swimsuit.

Lately I am surrounded by young women with these gazelle-type legs. My goddaughters, my neighbors, my niece Kelly and daughters of friends. I stare. I drool. I know it's a sin but I covet them.

I still wear shorts and skirts. Leg men would run away. Deal with it.

Is there such a thing as men who are attracted to arms?

Sex and The City

Yesterday, as part of our goldies weekend, we went to the movies. This is a huge treat for me. I generally go to the theater two or three times a year. The husband doesn't enjoy it and I always feel a little guilty about all the things that need my attention.

I used to go to the movies all the time so I guess it was my lifestyle changes in the past few years that changed that habit.

But, during our girls' weekend, guilt is not allowed. So we went to see "Sex and the City." One friend had already seen it but she was gung-ho to see it again. Another had never seen the series so she was afraid she wouldn't get it. Like a trouper, she went along. We loved it.

I did watch the series and although it occasionally made me squirm, I loved so many things:

The fifth lady -- New York City -- my favorite!

The clothing and accessories -- I do not aspire to own Blanik shoes but it's fun to watch others who do.

Their dates -- I have been married the entire time this series was on the air so I could live vicariously through their escapades and usually was very grateful to not be in that situation.

Their sense of empowerment: Whether it was jobs or men, these women were not looking for someone to save them.

Their age: These women are roughly my age. Even with their different lifestyles, I still identified with them.

Their friendship: They weren't afraid to confess failures and quirks. With all the juggling, if a girlfriend needs something -- it jumps high on the list.

It was fun to watch. It was especially touching to see it with two women who have seen me through it all.

Jeans

I watched a makeover show recently and they insisted the participant get rid of her "Mom" jeans. They made her look dumpy. No one explained the term "Mom jeans."

My selection of jeans is far too elaborate. I have jeans in various sizes and various lengths, depending on the shoes I plan to wear. I have jeans I wore in college. They are my faves, holes and all. I try to only wear them around the house because they are not the most attractive item in my closet. However, slipping into them is like welcoming an old friend. They're soft and comfortable. They're molded to my body. They bring back great memories.

Several years ago, the husband and the baby bought me a pair of jeans for Christmas. They fit low on the hips and have a little flair at the bottom. I said, "I cannot wear these." They were right. I wear them all the time.

People who wear jeans to church, weddings, funerals or any formal occasion get on my nerves. The husband loves to comment, "Those must be their Good Jeans." I find it disrespectful.

On one of my many shopping trips with the oldies, we bought the Belle some jeans. At first she was hesitant but she went with the flow and grew to love them. Of course, she had to kick it up a notch with jewelry, scarves and a great jacket.

When I took her to the hospital the last time, she was wearing jeans. She was also well accessorized.