Determined not to repeat past sins (moving from one location to another completely unprepared), I've started cleaning out my closet.
My God, I think, as I hold up a pair of pants that hasn't fit in about four years. Did these ever fit me? These look like a child's pair of pants. I continue weeding through the closet. More absurdly small pairs of pants. Two Pepto Bismol pink jackets, one made of stretch corduroy and the other a puffy ski-jacket type thing. A long jean skirt. A long pinstripe skirt. Good Lord, have I never had style?
Clothing that is stained, ripped, stretched to unwearable lengths, faded and altogether the completely wrong size -- I've kept it all for years and years, and now it's time for this pile of crap's swan song.
Adieu, netted tops that were fashionable for about 5 minutes in the '80s. So long, awful synthetic poncho my mother purchased for me for Christmas one year (but which I loved). Fare thee well, short checkered skirt that I should never have worn, no matter how thin I was. Good riddance, unfortunate-looking brown purse that I carried around with me for much too long.