Mon. Jun 24th, 2024

Skinny Jeans New Years and the palpable lengthening of days, the lifting of depression,

brings new resolve to shrink everything about my life.

Putting on sweat pants, as if I was going out to run around the block instead of arming myself against the down turned thermostat, in a desperate attempt to trim even our utility bills, my skinny jeans, hiding at the bottom, are exposed.
During a January thaw the holiday decorations are brought in before the next bout of cold and snow. Carefully swaddled and packed and toted up rickety stairs to the attic with the help of growing, now strong Grandchildren, the newly exposed emptiness of the living room inspires a bout of spring cleaning.
Book shelves are thinned of never to be read or reread books for donation to soldiers, or hospitals or the local laundromat. I go through my clothing sorting out those things to be given or thrown away. Torn or stained in one pile, ill-fitting in another, making way for Christmas gifts and post holiday sale items, but the skinny jeans won’t go.
I line up boxes next to my desk and sort through the paperwork that has accumulated in every nook and cranny. Throw out old invoices that have long since been paid, advertisements for magazines I won’t read. Another box for letters I mean to answer, articles I still want to read, and of course yet another for those items relevant to the IRS. The garbage can is full but my desk is now clear and it is as if I will suddenly be able to write the great American novel, or at least my most inspiring column.

Packing up boxes for delivery to the thrift shop, I sort

books, unused housewares, excess towels, unmatched sheets, wrong sized table cloths

but the skinny jeans won’t go.

Part inspiration as if the ten pounds that would be lost to fit them will suddenly make me seem thin, thin enough to go for the next ten and the next. Part desperation knowing that in the past five years they have fit comfortably for maybe two weeks time. One hundred percent admonishment, and yet I can’t let them go.

Skinny Jeans taunt us from the closet.

By Ana Grarian

50+ hippy chick from NY - STATE - and yes, I'm sensitive about that.

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