Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Mistaken Identity

On the weekend, Luc and I undertook some light spring cleaning. I figured this would be a good time to make the trek to the back of my closet and finally do a purge of all the items I no longer wear. This is excruciatingly difficult for me, being a borderline-OCD pack rat. These items of clothing have been tucked away for months upon months (some for years) without being needed once, yet I always seem to be terrified that one day, I'll need a black, pleated jean skirt with a bright orange, see-through stretchy top and black, square-toed, leather ankle boots that don't actually fit me, and then I'll be kicking myself, saying, "I knew it! NOW what am I going to do???"

Some things are outdated (like all three of the aforementioned items), some no longer fit and some are in such terrible condition I cringe just thinking that I actually wore it so long that it could get to that point of raggedness. I had three white tank-tops; one nice one for everyday wear; one average one for the gym; and one ragged piece of crap that is so stretched in some places that the fabric has worn thin to the point that it's nearly see-through. The latter fits into the "terrible condition" category. It's the kind of clothing that one would be embarrassed to donate to the local Army and Navy because homeless people wouldn't even dress their dogs in it. Somehow this sub-par tank top has managed to stay in one piece and remain in my closet, but finally, with an enormous amount of strength and willpower, I wrestled the beast to the ground and threw it in the garbage.

I don't know when it happened, but this evil genius of a tank top escaped the clutches of my trash bin and wormed its way back into my closet. And that is why when I was getting dressed for the gym this afternoon, I didn't pull out my gym tank top, but in my trembling hand I held this monstrosity of a garment, begging to be worn. I suppose my perfectly good gym tank top is crying tears of neglect as it is buried somewhere under banana peels and old diapers. I'm sorry gym tank top, I didn't mean to throw you away, and I certainly didn't mean to show up at the gym looking like a sumo wrestler was just power washed wearing my tank top. But I did.

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