The other week, Cla made this offer: “I was thinking that maybe I could come over and help you pack – and help you throw things out.”
I absolutely appreciated the offer. She knows me. She knows I hoard. She also knows that I come by it honestly.
(Sorry, Mama. Would you like a Cla for Christmas?)
So last night was our “let’s toss it” date. I felt like I was on a combination episode of “What Not to Wear” and “How Do I Look?” And Cla, with BnB’s help, was the host.
I had to justify nearly every piece of clothing I wanted to save, and Cla informed me that there was no need to keep more than 10 t-shirts – even if [insert every excuse I came up with]. There were some tops that I just hadn’t worn in forever, even though I still thought they were super cute, one of which was an argyle halter top.
“Liebchen,” BnB informed me, “I think you’re mature enough to actually have an argyle sweater with arms.” So away went the halter. Along with four bags/boxes worth of other clothing.
At one point, I made the mistake of admitting that I was glad I’d already taken some things over to the boyfriend’s, so Cla couldn’t throw them out.
“So you’re hiding things! Maybe we should go over there next!”
She was entirely too excited about continuing the purge. The possibility of her sneaking into the new apartment just to weed out more clothes was also broached.
And then came the moment of the night.
You see, I have an entire package of knee high stockings. At one point, I thought they were really practical to wear with pants. And that logic may still hold true, but I never wear them. And that’s what prompted this conversation:
BnB: “Why do you have so many knee highs?”
Cla: “You could wear them to rob a bank! I’m going to take some for when I sneak into your apartment. (beat) Maybe I should try one on now.“
BnB tried to help, but it was really hard for any of us to stop laughing.
Eventually, though, Cla was successful.
And a little scary.
All in all, I would say that the night was productive. The company was fantastic. The truth wasn’t even close to sugar-coated. The closets were purged.
And I got the go-ahead to replace a few items that I ended up throwing out.
But, I also made a deal on a number of articles that if I don’t wear them by the end of this season, they’ll have to go.
And I have no doubt that Cla will hold me to that. With or without the stocking mask.
*A little Cla commentary on one of my running shirts. So now some lucky donation center is getting a chipmunk running suit.