Last night, I was mildly frustrated because I KNEW I had another white t-shirt, but I couldn’t find it. Then I realized it was because my wardrobe was a mess… Again. So I pulled all the shirts out and decided to sort them.
As all my clothes were sitting in a pile on the floor, I became nauseous. I have too much stuff. I have too many clothes.
I love shopping as much as the next girl, but I realized last night how out of hand it had gotten. It’s like I collect things. I collect t-shirts and tank tops like trading cards. Then I realized how few of them I actually wear (Mainly because they are all buried under each other in my wardrobe that is too small).
I honestly felt ill: Not because of the money I’d spent but because of the amount of stuff. Who needs the same t-shirt in 12 different colors? One still even had the tag on it, and I’ve had it for a few months.
Maybe I’m over thinking things, but I keep wondering what drove me to accumulate so many clothes? Why did I buy it all? Does it serve some sort of purpose for me? I have jeans that I never wear.
I think I need to just fill a garbage bag full of stuff and donate some of it. I have some nice things, and maybe it would be a good idea to just give them away so someone actually needs shirts and jeans can get them at a price they can afford.
I’m a bit disgusted with myself. I decided last night to make a change and break out of the consumerism a bit by only buying clothes when I actually need them, which won’t be for a long time now. I hope I can keep this up.
I had time for coffee this morning!
Granted, I didn’t wash my hair, but I will sacrifice that for coffee. No worries, I washed it yesterday. I have standards. Jeeze.
Also wearing my new shoes today!
I understand this totally. My boyfriend is fabulous.
Well friends, I’ve finally done it. I finally was able to drive a stick shift. Next time, I get to drive on the real road.
I feel very triumphant with this accomplishment. It only took me 11 years of being a licensed driver to accomplish this item on my bucket list. Also, I had to get a driver’s license in a new country… Whatever. The point is, I did it!
I was so excited that I called my dad when I got home to tell him. Yep. I called my dad at 11:30pm (my time) to tell him that I finally successfully drove a stick shift.