jean regret (or, buyers remorse)
but a recent trip to the depths of my closet and back shed some light on my empty promises. i've nearly worn the life out of one pair of dark-washed sevens. i've been seen matching them with t-shirts and sweaters and under dresses and with hoodies and heels and flip-flops and this one pair of diesels that i should really wear more often.
but the other two pair of jeans have basically just hung out in the closet visiting with the greenish blue pants from Old Navy that I knew were a mistake the first day I wore them. They probably swap stories of neglect with the brown pair of rocket dogs that pinch my toe in the wrong place and with my Mizzou jacket that only gets worn on the rare occasion that MU is having a good season.
they are money on a hanger. money i wish i hadn't spent. because the light blue sevens just don't seem as perfect as my favorite pair. they're hemmed a bit too high. none of my shoes seem to work with them, and on days when i'm not feeling (or looking) particularly thin, they don't flatter me at all.
and the citizen's - the slightly less expensive designer duds - hang there, too. because they just seem to clingy in places they shouldn't be and after a few hours of sporting them, they stretch out to all hell and i look a wreck.
really, my closet is full of a lot of mistakes. but i can't seem to get rid of any of them. so they all just live there - among headbands and the fuel belt i bought for running that ended up being too big. with that wool sweater that i hold onto in the event that i would ever move to alaska and with boxes and boxes of photos and memories and my first grade home folder. and somehow, no matter how little i've looked at, put on or been proud of some of the inhabitants of my closet, they all tell part of my story. and when i look at them, i remember who i was when i bought them - and who i am now.