No. No. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. MINE. Oh heck no.
I stood over my bed, sorting the mountain of clothes I’d collected there.
Keep. Give. Toss. Give. Give. Keep. Give. Not in a state for human wearability. Cut out the front for a project. Give.
Anybody walking in on me would smile, figuring I was doing a routine sorting of my clothes.
But it was a lot more than it appeared to be.
I grew up in a rather low-economy bracket. Whatever clothes came my way, I kept until they wore out or got too tight. I still don’t shop for clothes more than a couple times a year. They’re just not a high priority for me and I haven’t ever really cared what I looked like. Why should I? I dont want all my time and attention consumed by matching pieces of cotton and polyester. I certainly didn’t want anything that hugged me too close. Or showed off my body. Why would I want that attention? Best get the school uniform that’s obviously two sizes too large.