Giving Up the Ghost

Not to be too melodramatic but today I finally threw away two t-shirts I have been nursing along for, oh, let’s say, 20 years. The last 6 years of which have not been pretty. Still, it took all my strength and a lot of courage, I’ll have you know!

I can convince myself and indeed, did, that the extreme fading they underwent was making them more attractive, yea, verily, more fashionable.  Provided one was concerned about being in fashion during a time when faded holey shirts were vogue.

Because, yes, I confess, they did have a hole here and there. Like around the neck, in the back where I had removed the labels 19 years ago, under the arms, and then there are those holes which just sort of appeared – like in the middle of the back and about 2/3rds down the front. Where on earth do those come from?

In my own defense, I must say I’d stopped wearing these in public about 5 or 6 years ago. If one doesn’t count mowing the lawn or gardening or walking the dogs.

Which I was informed one SHOULD count as public and I ought to know better. So I stopped wearing them outside the house about 4 years ago.

I used them as pajama tops in the summer. I felt sexy in them. Which is not something I wanted to give up without a fight because I am in my early 60s and I am greatly removed from being svelte and I LIKED feeling sexy even with the holes and the fading.

Although I should confess it’s hard to tell what colors they started out as…or even what colors they are now. I guess I would say that one is a kind of grey and the other is a steel blue. Okay, that’s grey too, I know, but it’s a different shade of grey.

So today I was moving the spring/summer stuff into my closet and putting the fall/winter stuff away and thinking, as one can at this time of year if one is not careful and has not eaten enough chocolate, that maybe I should weed the wardrobe out a little.

Like those tank tops I tell myself I will wear under my summer shirts except 1. I get too hot and thank you menopause and 2. the pretty royal blue one has a barely noticeable area across the front that’s pink where I splashed some bleach on myself when I was doing some dumb experiment and the orange one is, if truth be told, perhaps a shade too small and the….you get my drift.

After going through the tanks, I was ready to tackle the next pile of clothes and, alas, they turned out to be the solid color t-shirts. (As opposed to most of my t-shirts which have either political slogans or commemorate various attempts of the Denver Rockies to get to, let alone win, the World Series.)

I did rescue the still green tee that merely has holes (okay 4 of them but that’s all) on the back where I removed the label. (I guess I get impatient to get the labels OFF.)

But I sat down and talked to myself sternly and – sigh – I did it. Those two tees, that weathered 20 up and down years of my life with me, got put in the laundry room as rags.

I did decide this meant I could keep the tanks for now.  And the laundry room is j u s t   d o w n  t h e  h a l l, so, if I want to, I can rethink this whole sorting-through-stuff endeavor.