farewell, frump

i think i killed a sweater today. it is unlikely that it will be missed. some weeks ago, i had pulled it out from the bottom of one of the last of the unopened boxes. it is shapeless, light blue, and grandma. i recall at the time questioning why i’d even dragged it to another house. it so clearly is from a time in my life when function and oversizedness were seemingly my only criteria in garment shopping. not that that has changed drastically since, but i know my attention has shifted - at least somewhat - away from hideous drapey fatgirl clothes to items that imply outrageous things like shape or style. so anyways, when i descended into the laundry room just now to look for my legwarmers, the big baby blue zip-up sweater was staring at me from a pile. it looked so sad, as though in need of freshening or time travel. so i filled a bucket with warm soapy water and shoved the knit mass in for a soak. then i exhausted myself trying to wring it out. my sore arms managed to drape it soggily across the sink. i suspect it shan’t recover. if it dries at all, it’ll take weeks. and who knows? by then, i may actually have confronted the fact that my days of frump are (should?) be over, goddammit. and if ever i need to dress warmly, perhaps i needn't look like blueberry muffin’s scary cableknit aunt.


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