So this morning , CD player on, I decided to take a stab at cleaning out my closet and putting away all my scoob gear (work clothes). First I felt overwhelmed. Then, as I started throwing away all the things I never should have spent money on, let alone worn in public, let alone to a place of employment (or anyplace other than that of employment - I can't tell and the line is fuzzy), a weight started lifting. Gone are the Gap stretch dress pants which developed a hole in the seam at my ankle two years ago and I fixed by stapling, allowing them to make an appearance at least weekly ever since. And gone are the super dumpy sweaters I let myself get away with for far too long (don't feel too much relief, amigos, I'd never part with the cardigans).
The cathartic nature of this wardrobe sifting made me think about what I'll do next (and what I can wear to that) and what it was like to be a real casual person before the yob, when I could wear whatever I wanted. This brought me back to when buying clothes was fun, and I started having flashbacks to watching The Real World, Los Angeles (hands down the best season, way before they even had Road Rules, let alone challenges) in jean short cut-offs and oversized Banana Republic logo t-shirts in my neighbor's attic. (My particular Banana Republic logo t-shirt collection was epic - I think I had at least four that made the rotation.)
For whatever reason not pertaining to the actual size of my own ass, I instantly remembered on one specific episode of the Real World LA, there was a cast member named Tami who told a story about buying a butt lifter and wearing it to a club. I guess it was some sort of contraption that gathered and redirected all of her butt fat so that it protruded from a hole, or something. Whatever, lifting went awry and her butt somehow caused her extreme embarrassment while dancing in a bar in 1993, and I have not since nor will I ever forget about it. So ok, my ass size is relevant. Those Gap pants were to me what Tami's buttlifter was to her - wildly misguided and now retired, much to the benefit of how we'll look in clothes forever.
But I did not think of my neighbor's attic solely because of my penchant for cutt-offs and Tami's weird butt. It was also where I ordered my first CDs, joining BMG by filling out and mailing in the order form I ripped out of YM. I think there were at least fifty CDs to choose from! The first one I picked was Pearl Jam. After I got it I listened to it on repeat all day every day, up until the second CD arrived (Nirvana), and so on. Many CDs and 456 itunes later, I'm going back to the hard stuff. So, if one wanted to purchase a CD, and one had on the right casual wear to do so, should one rejoin BMG? I mean really, they're still going with the 12 CDs for the price of 1??? My mom would be so mad at me all over again.
Ass relevant, I'm going for a jog.
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