True Life: I’m a Hoarder – The Pixie Episode

If you follow me on twitter, you saw I recently twit-pic’ed a barrage of photos in quick succession.

Tip of the iceburg, people.

In order to help hold myself accountable, and in an effort for self-therapy, I am airing out my dirty laundry (well, in this case, clean laundry). I am a clothes hoarder. And this is my proof.

Exhibit A:

Red Tank Top, looks horrible on me, wore once

Exhibit B:

Black Tank Top, Gift From Gramma. Has Sequins. I hate sequins.

Exhibit C:

Red Kimono Dress. Wore it once (in California) NOT flattering. Makes me look fat(ter) and flat chested.

Exhibit D:

Bought this at a thrift store. NEVER WORE IT. Heavy and unflattering.

Exhibit E:

Super cute, right? Right. Except it fits awkward as hell. Well, it would fit SOMEONE awkward as hell. For me? It just doesn't fit.

Exhibit F:

I'm supposed to wear these to the gym. Except I never have. They look weird on my butt, and my butt looks weird as it is.

Exhibit G:

I wore this my first day of my senior year of high school. Haven't worn it since. Sad that I still own it? Yes. Sad that I know when I last wore it? Yes. Sad that I wore this IN HIGH SCHOOL? Oh yeah.

Exhibit What The Hell Letter Are We On?:

LOVE THIS TANK TOP! Hate that it doesn't fit. Never has. I bought it anyway.

Exhibit Oh Good God, There’s More?! :

This shirt has ruffles. I hate ruffles. More than I hate sequins.

Folks, even these pictures don’t cover the tip of the iceburg. Other winning items include: Gloria Vanderbilt pants that even Stevie Wonder can see are uuuuugly. Purple pants my grandmother gave me for Christmas that I can only see Richard Simmons wearing… as cut offs. (Ha! Have fun with that visual imagery! You’re welcome!) A tank top that my chest POURS out of. Repeatedly. A pair of jeans that couldn’t flatter Denise Richards. A pair of jeans that has more butterfly’s on the ass then a 12 year old girls room (or that one Crazy Town video, your choice.) And 2 pairs of jeans that didn’t fit when I bought them, still don’t fit, and never will fit.

And those are just the BAD STUFF.

I also have about 15 tank tops. SIX, count ’em, SIX hooded sweatshirts. Two pairs of sneakers that I hate. One pair that I love that doesn’t fit. A pair of ankle boots that I searched tirelessly for (to go with the red kimono dress!), only to NOT wear them for the event, and never ever wear them. More pajama pants than any one human being should be allowed (just don’t take my gnome jammies away!!). I even own footie pajama’s people. Footie pajama’s. I’m going to be 26.

I’ll go shut up, you soak all that in.


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September 2011
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