It has not been the best of days today.
First, the early morning wake-up from the boys was not welcome.
Then the crappy weather set me off to a bad start.
And we had two showings scheduled for tonight - right at the dinner hour.
I spent most of the day - save an outing to get the boys' hair cut - running around the house cleaning, making sure it was show ready.
The boys were out of their minds with boredom and I did not have the energy or the desire to engage them at all. I truly sucked at the single parent role today.
This evening, after the boys were in bed, I decided it was time to tackle my closet and my dresser. What started as a cathartic purging experience ended with me sitting on the bed close to tears. Why?
Because I came across those skinny jeans that I have not been able to wear for the last 8 years. The skeleton in my closet.
I was in love with those pants - so in love with them that I bought 3 pairs. They moved with me from Toronto to Calgary, even though I was already pregnant with Westin and I knew it would be a while before I could wear them again. Then they moved again from Calgary to Surrey, even though I knew that my body would never be the same again after 2 kids and getting closer to 40.
But tonight, I had to let them go. And a little part of my skinny youth died. I know that sounds dramatic, but the last time I wore those jeans I was a completely different person. I can remember how I felt the day I tried them on and how they made me feel whenever I wore them. I think I sighed out loud as I put them in the garbage bag. And I am still feeling sad about them now.
As dumb as this sounds, I will never forget those jeans. Just like I have not forgotten the fab embroidered capris that I wore to death more than 10 years ago. It's harder to let something go when you can no longer serve it's purpose than when that something can no longer serve your purpose.