Unfortunately, I ain’t got nothin’. Yet. Shit, I’m still getting rid of ‘the old’. Case in point –
Apr 03, 2017
- Champion sweat pants that should’ve been pitched 20 years ago
- ‘would you ever be caught dead in these sweatpants’ ugly
- DUMPSTER
- now I really do have nothing to wear home from the gym
Ugh! it’s been a long time coming. Now I’m just waiting – very patiently (note: sarcastic tone) – for this whole feng shui concept to engage. According to this principal, the universe is in a state of continual change, forever attempting to maintain balance. Translation – I’m due for something new. My balance, in this case my closet, should be restored.
Fuck that shit. The only balance I know is the one in my bank account. Not only isn’t it maintained, but it ain’t ready for the changes I incurred with my wardrobe catharsis. Makeovers are expensive. If you really think about it, though, all the articles of clothing I pitched were rarely wore. Thankfully. Just so those who know me won’t be scared, I do have clothes to wear home from the gym.
So, where am I going with all of this?
No fucking clue. I wish I did though. Because I truly need to change things up a bit. And, I ain’t talking any of this amateur closet purging shit either. I need a major overhaul. But, when you think about change and what you can and can’t change it gets … complicated. Some debunk all responsibility in a selfish pursuit of what is viewed as happiness. Not me. I will not compromise my adult responsibilities in some self-absorbed meltdown. I’ll save that for those Kardashians. Besides, meltdowns are so overrated.
Sometimes other changes evolve, serving as a ‘distraction’. If everything goes as planned, this fall two of my three children will be away, pursuing their own individual interests.
So, where does that leave me?
Right here, right now, baby, making sure these pipe dreams for my kids precipitate. After that, maybe, just maybe I can ponder my own continuum with the hope that my ‘balance’, and I ain’t talking closet here, will get restored.
