Stacy London Would Have A Heyday In My Closet

I need an intervention, a controlled burn, or maybe I should be arrested by the fashion police.

I seriously considered calling Big Mama for advice while I was attempting to clean out my closet.

"Yes, Texas?  Could you connect me to Big Mama?  No?  What about Beth Moore?  I think she knows Beth Moore.  Connect me to Beth and I'll have her forward the call."

The funniest thing is, when I got online to see what everyone was up to today, I find that Big Mama cleaned out her closet, too.  The difference is she actually gets rid of stuff...

Back to the dilemma at hand.  I am a certified pack rat.  Pack. Rat.  If it isn't junk mail or the Sunday paper, I keep it.  Period.  

Birthday cards from when I was 11?  Check.

Papers I wrote in high school?  Check.

Our wedding napkins from 10 years ago?  Check.

I'm aware that it's a sickness, but I'm not a fan of the drugs, so here I am with my sick self.

When it comes to clothes, I have multiple elaborate systems to purge old, obsolete clothing. These systems fail me repeatedly.

For instance, last year, I collected 4 huge storage containers of clothes with which I was ready to part.  My mom priced them for a garage sale, I played Taps and then it was time for the garage sale.  It was to be at my step-mom's house.  

It never happened.

So the marked, mourned clothing went into my closet.  I've dug through it seven times, since, and have resurrected, ( from the dead, people) two pair of capris that would have otherwise gone to some skinny garage saler.

In some crazy twist of fate, more of the clothing in the garage sale closet fits me than in my actual closet.  I don't quite understand the math of it all, but I'm twenty pounds lighter than I was when I got pregnant with Chloe.  If I figure out how it happened, I'll surely let you know....

So, now - as I clean my closet, I feel completely justified in my fear of:

A. throwing anything out, for fear it might be just what I need, at a later date.

B. selling anything to size 10 strangers.  (Because let's face it, size 10 and I will meet again,  just not in time to wear the super fun clearance scores from the end of season sales last year.)

Here's what I needed to ask Big Mama:

1.  Will flare legged jeans ever be in style again?  And if they are, will I be able to stand the weird (loud) noise they make when the legs rub together?

2.  Will the not-so-long t-shirts ever be missed if I huck all 173 of them into the bonfire?  I am what my grandma used to call "long waisted".  I have a long torso, grandma. 

3. What about the poncho?  Is it gone forever?  If it comes back will it be too late for me?  I'm already afeared to wear the leggings, in case I might look like a 12 year old.  

4. What about my purple Gap khaki type pants?  Should I wear purple pants?  They also have a bit of a flare, so go back to #1 and begin again.  What about my red Dickie pants?  They're more of a boot-cut, but should I be wearing colored pants at all?

I'm sure I could go on and on.  Do you see my problem?  Praise God my ADD kicked up and I moved onto less stressful pastures...  

I think my bed is covered with turtleneck sweaters, though.  That could be an issue a little later.