Decluttering

well, more like a painful separation that i'm forcing myself through.

As a shopaholic fashionista (yup, self proclamation) I seem to have amassed quite the wardrobe. Enough to overflow out of the confines of my size 8 shoe box bedroom. It must be a cruel cruel joke played by the powers that be (and my insightful father) - because I (the girl with waaay too many clothes/jackets/wearable items) got the smallest room in the house sans a closet of any kind. So i've been McGuyvering it to make it all work.

Until recently, that is.

I realized that the more I hold onto - the less space I have to fill up. Which theoretically should make me happy considering my unemployed state of being. But no siree - not me. I've embarked on a journey that I should've aeons ago - one that involves decluttering my closet in the hopes of decluttering my life. Organization my ass! This is painful people.

Think of someone maliciously pulling out every single eyelash on your pretty little peepers and then letting it kiss a flame from a defunct zippo. Yup. That's the feeling. Painful.

Most of the things i hold on to and never ever wear come complete with cobwebs and memories. Ones that i can't bear to part with. Call it immaturity or gluttony but regardless of what you name the beast it comes down to the stripping of walls. Well built, well placed walls that protect the Jana fortress. Much like my suit of armour, my act of bravado - so is my closet. Filled to the brim with old memories allowing me to believe that my life is full and complete. With no extra place for newness.

Should work again - theoretically. It works with the emotional and pyschological hoarding. Not so much with the clothing. I still go out and blow my pittance of a savings account on clothing. An addiction. So today - I'm decluttering.

(Note to self: wear protective armour while partaking in this activity. I have a tendency of hurting people (including myself)who try to throw out my precious belongings) - brackets within brackets - I am a veritable scholar.

So long story short - here is a little something that was plastered on a once gorgeous black tee. It's from the early 90's - when i was pro-feminist to the point of puking, obviously had no style (this tee could be a dress), wore lots of lycra regardless of my chunky behind and figured it all made sense in my head. Boy was I wrong...but some of the RULES on my tee (think it was a souvenir from our first trip to Niagara Falls - don't judge people - even diva's were fobs at one point)still ring true.

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Here they are:

The Rules
1. The female always makes the rules
2. No male can possibly know the rules
3. If the female suspects the male knows all the rules, she must immediately change some of the rules
4. The female is never wrong
5. The female can change her mind at any given point of time
6. The female has every right to be angry or upset at any time
7. The male must remain calm at ALL times, unless the female wants him to be angry, or upset
8. The female must under no circumstances let the male know whether or not she wants him to be angry, or upset.
9. If the female has PMS,all rules are null and void
10. The male cannot diagnose PMS.

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Sad isn't it? Yet, still funny. Got a little chuckle out of me.

But adios long-black- overly-stretched-out tee, you've been good to me. Through years of all nighters, ugly bouts of "I'm pmsing buzz off", prolonged sad sessions and heart breaks. You will be remembered fondly but all good things must come to an end at some point.

And this would be THAT point for you.

Urgh...back to work jana. Chop Chop! After all decluttering is a humane activity. It lets your once useful recently defunct clothing rest in peace. And simultaneously welcomes your brand spanking new items into a spacious home.

I wonder if this would count as my good deed for the day...