My heart (or whatever piece of shit organ works these emotions) sent me an invite for a pity party today.
To that, my mind RSVPd with a “fuck off!”
I have come to the realization that after hours bring epiphanies…and I just had one. I know (for a fact) I am awesome. But I don’t always feel that way. So when I do, I fondle that bitch like a pedophile! (So good it’s illegal)
I cleaned out my closet today…literally and metaphorically. I found things I did not want (or need) anymore. I had held on for so long. I had owned these jeans since early 2010 and I still loved them. But damn…they’ve faded and they are too big now. I’ve outgrown them. Here were my options; to either get back to my old self by putting on weight just so these jeans could fit. (And to that you ask, “damn those must be some sexy ass jeans?”) And honestly they are. They’re those butt popping jeans that Kim Kardashian probably owns, not that she needs them…and not because I need them.(this is getting incriminating so I’ll stop)
My other option was to wear them one more time then give them away. And I did just that. But everyone insisted I keep them TILL I found someone to take them off my hands. “NO NO NO NO!!!” I cried out like a screwball. I was tired of them. They made me hideous. They no longer made my ass pop like they did. I would not have this madness (THIS IS SPARTA, haha) I placed them right outside my door and made a 9/11 kind of warning to everyone not to let the jeans into my room. Alas. No one had to do such a thing. I had proclaimed the same insanities for months and yet I still wore the jeans. But today…today was different. I tried them on and there was no joy. My rear did not cling to them like it had before. These were not the same jeans, and to feed my paranoia, my thoughts were sure the jeans were probably rejecting me as well. I had upgraded and as such needed a new pair to match. To further endorse this were the new pairs of jeans that would fit exactly. So I let go of the jeans. It’s sad to say that a struggle that lasted so long has come down to one sentence but it is what it is.
To make things more complicated, I wasn’t ready for the new jeans. The previous one had been so unconventional (much like myself) and these were ordinary. It did not feel like an upgrade. And deep down I knew that I was not right for these jeans. I needed some intense work out to fit in these new jeans. Everyone says in order to get over the old jeans I should incessantly wear the new ones. But it won’t be fair to the new jeans. I’ll wear them out and not love them like I loved the old pair.
So it is under these circumstances I put the decision on hold. I would not select any pair until I had become the perfect fit. Well not perfect but reasonably visible change. And when everyone asks why I don’t wear jeans anymore, I’ll laugh it off and say something witty to ward off their curiosity. But in reality I’m working for the right pair.
I see the old pair of jeans on the new girl sometimes and I’m okay with that. “Smile and wave,” I say to myself. I do that and I go on with my life.