Closeted dangers

You all know about the viral attack I had last weekend. May be some of you find it amusing and some find it silly, but nevertheless there is always a friend who empathizes. My friend from the banks of Thames wrote back to me saying that the sale virus always flourished in the Queen’s kingdom. He also said it was time for me to shop for bigger cupboard to accommodate my future viral attacks. I swear if I did any more shopping I would have turned a nervous wreck and attempted suicide.

Now coming back to reality, I needed more space to accommodate my new clothes in the closet. I needed to make room for the new daughter-in-law at home. I had to respect and accommodate the new addition to the family without a hiss and piss. At the same time it was not easy to break my ties with my oldies and form new bonds instantly. Is this a sign of growing old?

Is welcoming a fun job or cleaning a dirty job? Hmmm….

Cleaning can get dusty, musty, and nostalgic, don’t you agree? Some make you sneeze and give you allergies, some make you nostalgic and give you goose bumps, some make you tear and curl. Be it with humans or clothes. Parting is always emotional. Some carried shades of sentiments, threads of love, softness of relationships. Every thread and every fabric had a story to tell. It was difficult for me to decide what to keep and what to let go off!!

The worst part of cleaning was yet to arrive. I segregated them into categories – the perfect fit (a rare occurrence because I never stop growing), the extra large ones (this was like my family, there is always extra room) and tight ones that never took me in (like the love hate relationship with my ex). Why is there such so drama involved in a simple homecoming?

Who doesn’t want to look spiffy, in-style and like a model and at the same time also look cool, relaxed and respectful? It is all about looking good as you age. But the truth is that not everybody ages gracefully and there is always disproportion. Will I ever have to mince my words? Only time will have to say….

I was trying out my new clothes and jogging my memory on what size I wore for my last birthday. I picked up the old ones and there seemed enough room, but I still wanted to try them on and feel extra special and in-shaped before I disposed them.

To my surprise and dismay an inch of flesh, just an inch had come between me and my trouser. I looked on tag inside to check the actual waist size. May be the material had shrunk like my ageing skin? or May be growing older means competition between your age and waist size?

I didn’t have any answer, and I felt dizzy. I held myself together and slowly wriggled out of the cloth like a snake. I stood in front of the mirror for a complete body scan and I couldn’t not explain and understand how that layer appeared. I felt like a helpless leper starring at his disfiguration.

Was it the curse of the mirror or curse from the neglected clothing? or May be the mirror was the villian? I was completely shrouded in sorrow, guilt and disappointment. This means I can’t wear clothes that I once wore to flaunt my body. My world came crashing down.

There I was at the gym trying not to look at myself in the mirror. I knew it was going to require a lot of balls and guts to stand in front of a full size mirror again and acknowledge the extra inch until I lost it again. If I thought self inspection was deprecating I was mistaken. A friend who I haven’t seen in ages turns up at the gym and boorishly and blatantly points out that I have put on weight. I denied, but I didn’t even want to step on the scale to prove he was wrong.

An inch was enough to do a colossal damage to my self esteem. It teased, taunted, and stomped my ego. I felt rattled and had no choice but to accept my disproportion without any choice. Yes.. ageing was proportional to waist size.. out growing is a part of ageing. Ageing was never a fun!

I realized how old friends in your closet can sometimes make you feel miserable. Not all homecoming are fun!