It didn't occur to me when I got married. Or when I graduated from college. It snuck up on me. Maybe I just ignored it, pretending it wasn't there, like the orange furry hunger monster in those Weight Watcher commercials. But slowly, it began to dawn on me, or maybe I started to acknowledge it, like the orange fur started coming into focus in my periphery. But I eventually acknowledged the fact that I have outgrown my wardrobe.
Up until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn't really been clothes shopping in a while. Other things like weddings and household setup had distracted from my time, budget and desire to shop for many new clothes. I mean, I would get things here and there like anyone else. For some odd reason though, my clothes had recently been getting tossed into the giveaway basket at an alarming speed. That meant I needed more clothes (oh, I hate it when that happens). There is currently a laundry basket in my closet which is not only filled, but heaped like a mountain full of clothes I just DO NOT WANT ANYMORE.
So I made the tour of my go-to clothes stores (which shall remain unnamed), hoping to get a good amount of stuff to replace the giveaway mountain. I quickly became frustrated that I wasn't finding anything I liked. I couldn't put my finger on it, but nothing was quite right. Then I began to notice the other shoppers, and the slow weight of reality settled into my mind. All of them appeared to be least five years younger than me.
You may think that five years isn't a lot. Except that five years has made me into a different person. There is a big difference between me at 18 or 20 years old, and me now so rapidly approaching the terrifying milestone of 25. And there's a big difference between me and the other girls I observed shopping in those stores. The kinds of things I wore five or eight years ago are not what I want to wear now, as a married college graduate (eek!). I can't even put my finger on what makes my old clothes, and my previously-favorite stores, so antiquated. I was never a particularly trendy or flashy or 'hip' dresser. I just don't like them anymore, and that's all there is to it.
I am horrified that College and High School are Done And Over With. I'm now one of those people who can say "Back when I was in college..." It's not even about high school now. I'm Done With College. And I'm Married. This newness, being Older Graduated and Married and a Mrs., is why I was throwing out so many of my clothes. In the back of my mind, I knew that even though they still fit my body, they somehow just didn't fit my identity anymore. I guess I am all grown up now, as much as I hate to acknowledge that furry orange monster too.
I have accepted my lot in life. I will drink the bitter cup of being A Quarter Of A Century Old, and go on a shopping spree. Maybe it is a quarter-life-crisis. Whatever it is, life is rough when you get to be my age.