Nothing Fits

She rolled her eyes - nothing seemed to fit anymore. She scrubbed her hands across her forehead, trying to decide what made the best first impression. And what still fit her?

As she scanned her closet, she tried to remember where she had stored all of her old clothes. The old old clothes. The ones that hadn't fit since...

Bottom of the other closet. Sure enough, everything sorted and stored. 

She pulled out the boxes and bags, trying to remember what she had kept. There was a time she thought that none of it would truly ever fit again, and she remembered getting rid of a lot of pieces she would love to have right now. But that was also a long time ago...

She began digging through each bag and bin in the order it would get stacked back into the closet, continuing to purge and clean along the way, while also building a pile of clothes to try on. She made quick work of it, as she usually did. But this time, it was the excitement with intermittent anxiety that pushed her along - it was always fun to try on new clothes - but these weren't new, and they had a history. What would it feel like if nothing fit still? Should it be time to let it all go? 

After vacuuming and tidying up, all that was left was the stack of clothes she decided to try on. She gathered up the pile and carried it across the hall to the bed. She sorted everything into neat stacks - tops, bottoms, dresses, may not even try on, etc - and stripped down to begin assessing the options she selected. A quick turn in the mirror reminded her why most of these wouldn't fit - she was a mom now. 

For her, it was a very happy reason to not fit into anything. Her child was everything to her, everything. She loved her baby more than anything anywhere, real or imagined. But motherhood had caused her to stretch, in more ways and further than she ever imagined, leaving her scarred. But that is a whole series of other stories. 

She started with the pieces that were easy off and on and easy to judge. She was happy when nearly everything fit to her liking, and the few things that didn't were more style choices rather than fit. 

She was happy to be adding to her wardrobe. With everything going on, it was nice to have some new options. Each item was sorted as she worked. Before she expected it, the next item up was fraught with memories. 

Clothing holds memories. Maybe not for everyone, but for her they did. It made sense, she used to create clothing  She understood clothing in a way most others did not. 

She pulled the piece aside, just to double check what she had left.

Dress from girl's trip during life crisis. Loads of memories...

Small dress that barely fit when she bought it. It was very low cut, and she couldn't even think of anywhere she would actually wear that - definitely not work...

Dress from divorce period. Wore everywhere, took it off in just a few places. She smirked. See, sometimes this is fun she thought.

Lastly, two bikinis. 

She sighed - that was a lot of emotion just tied up in a couple pieces of clothing. Where did she want to start? 

She knew which was last, so she set it aside. Then she decided on the too small dress. She realized it was going to fit as soon as she slid her shoulders into it. The next dress fit as well. Not as well as she would have love it to, but enough that she might consider wearing it. The bikinis stared at her, friendly like two mean girls ready for a fresh kill. To her surprise, both fit well enough. They were added to the closet. 

That left only one dress. She remembered every moment she wore that dress. From the time she tried it on until she moment she wore it on a date with her future husband. The stories that dress could tell. She loved that dress. But she had lost all hope it would ever fit again. She hasn't worn it in nearly a decade.

It felt cool and remarkably smooth as it slid along her legs and thighs. It tightened around her hips, but having made clothes, she knew that was normal. She dropped her left hip slightly, and the dress glided up over her curves, resting on the crest of her hip bone. The reflection showed her pulling the dress onto her shoulders and adjusting the collar. 

She turned around as she adjusted the dress around her, making sure it was properly aligned before she started the buttons. The first button easily fit into place as she turned back to look in the mirror. She didn't need the mirror to do the buttons. She could do that part in the dark. She checked the fit as she buttoned up the front of the dress. Shoulders, good. Collar - needs to be hard-pressed, but good. Pockets - also need to be pressed. It needed to be steamed all over, and it was definitely a pain to do. But she only had to think about it if...

It actually fit. No, not like before. Better, in some ways - it highlighted more curves than she remembered. Turning, she wondered where she could wear it. She absentmindedly grabbed a pair of heels off the shelf, then click-clacked her way around in front of the mirror. Before long, her thoughts wandered where she did not want to go - and she efficiently undid all of the buttons, kicked off the shoes, then quickly folded the dress into a small, near-perfect square. Before her emotions could catch up with her thoughts, she tucked the dress behind some sweaters and pants. 

That would have to wait until another day. 

She realized that some things did fit...