Leather Pants and Sequined Skirts

Leather pants—yes or no? I don’t think I could get away with leather pants. I mean, technically I could, but I would be saddled by the kinds of reasonable, rational questions that leather pants-wearing people would never ask—“How much do they cost? Realistically, how often would I wear them? What shoes do I wear? Where does one wear leather pants?” Harper’s Bazaar swears they are “great everywhere from the office to a night out,” but I’m a teacher. I spend my days sitting “criss-cross-apple-sauce” on a classroom rug surrounded by cute little five year olds with grubby fingers who are still learning to cover their mouths when they cough.

 And a night out? I’m usually wearing pajamas by 8:00 on a Friday night. I’m not out clubbing—I’m eating Ben and Jerry’s watching something on Netflix with my husband while we lament that, back in the old days, TV used to be free and there were only like 5 channels and we didn’t have to budget half our salary for all these new-fangled streaming services and why are there three remotes on this coffee table?

Don’t think I’m being smug because I’ve avoided the leather pants phenomenon. I’m not immune to impulse purchases that I later regret.

I have a silver sequined skirt in my closet that I’ve never worn. Years ago, I bought it (used) from Poshmark thinking it would work for New Year’s Eve, but it was a little snug. I didn’t want to suck in my stomach all night, so I went with Plan B. Every year, I pull it out of my closet and Rational Me says, “I should get rid of this. I’m never going to wear it and it doesn’t fit.” And then Irrational Me counters with “This is so fun! You are totally going to lose 10 pounds and rock this awesome skirt someday!”

Truth is, my silver sequin skirt rocking days might be over. Truth is, my silver sequin skirt rocking days never really got started. So why do I keep hanging on to it?

Today is my 53^rd birthday and I have a new goal for a new year—to clean out my entire house. I can’t tell you how many people laugh when I tell them this. “Mom, you clean out the house every year,” Katherine told me. I know, I know. But here’s the thing: I only tackle the easy stuff. It’s easy to open up a junk drawer and throw away pens with no caps and old receipts. Then I get to the hard stuff. And I don’t know what to do with it. Some things have an emotional connection, others, I’m not sure of the best way to purge it from my life. Like my Dad’s old stamp collection. Do I donate it to Goodwill? Try to sell it? Wallpaper my office with old stamps?

When it’s difficult to decide, I usually end up doing nothing. Which is why that damn skirt is still here. I’m not quite ready to give up what it represents. When I hang it back up in the closet, I still feel the potential to be that silver sequined kind of girl—fun, fit, and fashionable.

I’m giving myself a year. A year to clean out the house. A year to tackle the tough decisions. A year to say, “I don’t know what to do with this,” and then figure it out. So, silver sequined skirt, consider yourself warned: You’re either going out on the town on the body of a fun, fit, and fashionable 53-year-old or you are finding a new home.