Oh.. reality television..

The girls and I spent the afternoon cleaning out closets today. It was not an enjoyable experience. We actually got ONE closet cleared, sorted through , and re-hung in about 5 hours.. tomorrow we will start a second closet that will probably take just as long. Why.. because I am a clothes hoarder. No lie.

I volunteer every week at a clothing give-away.. and every week I bring home bags and bags of clothes. I gather every designer label, and if it looks like it MIGHT fit someone in the house.. into the bag it goes. Absolutely everything in my size comes home with me.. regardless of personal style or age appropriate-ness. I drag home all these clothes, enough for every single person in my house to have a clean outfit for months without washing a thing.. seriously.. then I pile them up everywhere because there is no room in the closets or drawers. My 9 year old has a closet full of stuff she won't even grow into for YEARS.. yet it all hangs there.. waiting. My fashion unconscious 21 year old has designer clothes she would never ever wear, and I know she won't when I bring them home.. but they still occupy space in her closet because I simply HAD to get them for her.

It's selfish. I know it is. There are people that come into the give-away that are in such dire need of things, and all I can think is that I have to get the clothes sorted and hidden before anyone sees the quality or brands or sizes I am stuffing into my huge bags.

The other day, I was sorting donations when a larger woman came in. She looked about my size, and asked me about the plus sized clothing sitting in a pile beside me. It was MY pile, full of brands from Nordstrom and Macy's and Bloomingdale's.. so I told her it all had to be cleaned before it could be put out. I sat there for a few minutes, watching this lovely woman pick through the stacks of small sized jeans and tiny tops, knowing that she wasn't going to find a single thing because I had taken every last item in her size. I felt like an asshole. As she was getting ready to leave, empty-handed, I called her back and put the entire pile into bags and told her to take it all.  

 I have a problem.

 You can't tell by just walking into my apartment that I have a hoarding issue. My shame is safely tucked away behind closed bedroom doors. I decided that you will not see me on an episode of "Hoarders".. so today we began the purging process.

I do not need a tweed skirt from DKNY.. I do not need a plaid blazer from YSL.. I will never put these things on my body.. ever. If I went shopping, I would not be caught dead buying any of this stuff! I am a bright, bold girl.. a little rock-n-roll diva.. so why the fuck did I bring home floral print, or ruffled lace, or houndstooth? It was expensive.. for someone.. and I couldn't pass up a designer labeled anything for FREE!

We filled three trash bags, a box, and put aside another box for a friend to look through.. all from one closet. It was a struggle. Every skirt, every top, I agonized over before tossing it into that bag. Come on! That's a Ralph Lauren jacket! Really!? That's a $200 dollar lace dress! I finally stopped "looking" at what was going, because it made me a bit nauseated. No, I was never going to wear it, but it was pretty and expensive and I LIKED having it.

I told you, I have a problem.

Tomorrow comes the really hard part.. going through the munchkins closet. I want my girls to have nice clothes, and I can't afford to buy them, so dumping all these designer duds into a bag is going to kill me.. but my punk princess is not going to ever don that denim jumper with the flower buttons or the adorable polka dotted twin set.. and I know it. Out it will go, back to the give-away, and I can smile when the red spangled skirt from The Children's Place gets picked up and exclaimed over by the little girl that loves it so much she asks for her own bag to carry her treasure home in.

I want to see the look of joy and excitement on another person's face when they discover that $200 dollar dress hanging on the rack, jammed between the polyester housedress from 1960 and the hand knit lopsided sweater in eye-searing orange. I don't need those labels, my girls don't need 25 shirts from American Eagle.. and I will not bring another item home unless I have already donated something of equal or greater value for someone else to enjoy.

I hope.