A Box O' Sweaters

All winter long, as my belly steadily grew bigger and bigger, and the number of sweaters that were appropriate to wear dwindled, I kept having thoughts like didn't I used to have a black V-neck? What happened to that gray cardigan with the old man buttons? In early March I demanded N. buy me a sweater because the pickings were so slim. He came back with a very nice tee-shirt but what can you expect? All NYC retail stores burn their winter apparel in February and roll out the summer wear even though it's very likely it will very cold for the next three months.

So. N. went to his rented storage area on Tuesday to go through 33 years worth of stuff and sort out what he needs to bring to NH. In the midst of his XL-tees (this was before he went on the Biggest Loser), comic books, $500.00 of useless foreign currency, and a large stuffed purple unicorn, what did he discover?

A box of my sweaters! 23 of them to be exact! No wonder it was such a cold winter. I guess wearing the "new" sweaters is something to look forward to in NH.

Even though I have only myself to blame for putting the sweaters into storage, it kind of reminds me of the time my mom took me to Banana Republic in 10th grade and bought me my very first pair of expensive and stylish jeans. I loved these jeans. They fit my hips like butter. I only got to wear them for three times before the disappeared. I'll be the first to admit that I went a little crazy looking for the jeans for the next 7 months. Periodically, I would insist that my parents empty out the house. I also searched the homes of anyone who was my size and weight and might have had a thing for pants. I routinely asked my brother, J, who had a habit of liking my clothes more than his. Yeah, they were girl jeans but a 85 pound 7th grader can wear pretty much anything. J denied ever having seen then, let alone take them sans permission.

And so it went. Life interrupted with manic, futile searches. And then, late June, J arrives home with two heaving garbage bags full of "stuff from his locker."

Of course, you guessed it, I found the jeans were among the 80,000 pounds of paper and oak tag. Rage does not even begin to describe my approach to J who said he was waiting for a good time to mention it.

Is there a lesson in this? Is is weird that I'm still not over this?

N. wants it to be known that he never was an actual XL and he never was on the Biggest Loser. He was just into the baggy style a little too long. These days, not buying the 6 packs, is actually making him a sveltve medium unlike his big-bellied woman. He can't deny the purple unicorn, however.