I looked at my closet and every garment in it is something I will wear, something that reflects my mood, appetite, state of mind.
I had a complicated childhood, a confusing adolescence and a heartbreaking early adulthood. It made me anxious and insecure. It made me live like I had something to prove. But now looking at the vibrant colors, the bold textures, the too many scarves and the loud pairs of tights - I see that I am exactly where I want to be in my life. I look at my short skirts and flowly pants and I know that I have a job where I have freedom. Freedom to teach how I want and live how I want. I see my mountains of shoes and know I'm set for four seasons, another year of life. I still have the stretched out camisoles from when I was nursing. Maternity jeans that I keep for Thanksgiving and meals at Texas Roadhouse. Hats, to hide my growing out hair. Leg warmers for when I attend a sexy heels class or go ice-skating. Long necklaces that got booted from my everyday wear once I had babies. The stiletto heels that serve as an homage to when I was younger and believed fashion over function. Vintage Jordan's that are still stained from stepping in cow poop from when I met my husband's family.
There is no item of clothing, at this point in my life, that I need to buy. Nothing that will make me feel more like myself. Nothing that will remind me of who I was before I was comfortable in my skin. Before I loved who I was.
My closet now, at age 30, is who I am. Strong and resilient. I am fulfilled and I am content.