Just Try It On!

“I officially hate packing.

The transition from being married to single, has sent me on a whirlwind where everything I own gets to travel with me in the form of a very oversized suitcase busting at the seams, an equally stretched out duffle bag that on some days looks more exhausted than I do, a bookbag that had somehow sneakily replaced my stylish handbags and a diaper bag that doubles as a laptop carrier amongst whatever fits in there.

It was during a moment of packing again for what felt like the 50th time (and perhaps I'm not even exaggerating) in just a few short months, that I slumped over my suitcase in defeat, sobbing when I realized that yet again, I wasn't gonna make it out of there in reasonable timing without having to leave more of my things behind.

I thought to myself how is it even possible that my bags have seemingly multiplied when I really hadn't acquired anything new besides a few acrylic paints and canvases that I now debated on having to throw away to lighten the load.

However, in doing so, it didn't seem to make much of a difference. Upon further inspection, I'd realized that, besides these I was truly only down to bare necessities with the exception of a few very gorgeous dresses and lingerie that still had tags on them, along with a handmade robe and other crochet pieces my sister made for me as gifts.

In my frustration, I almost swore to myself to just leave it all behind and just go with the clothes I'd had on my back. But for some reason it wouldn't settle. I'd felt like God was highlighting something to me, but the angst was too loud. I decided to quiet the noise as I ripped fresh canvases from the pack, and gently stroked with every color of paint I would soon abandon, and I started asking questions.

Why hadn't I worn any of what I'd considered to be my favorite outfits?

Brand new pieces that still had tags attached made absolutely no sense to throw away. And I had finally gotten the custom crochet pieces my sister made for my birthday this past Thanksgiving, after 3 years of waiting (in vain) for her to ship them by mail. So nothing could truly convince me to either a. Leave them behind and likely never see them again or b. ship them back after we'd both gone out of our way to finally get them to me during the holidays. I couldn't tell which was worse.

But my investigation concluded that I was hoarding my best outfits and saving them for the "ideal" occasion. Which may sound normal, and maybe even common. But as I dug deeper I realized that the person I was showing up as daily, was an imposter. Since becoming a wife and mother, she had traded in her stilettos for flats... handbags morphed into diaper bags and bookbags, and her daily uniform were T-shirts, shorts/jeans/sweats -- which is what the real me may have been stuck with wearing for the rest of my life if I had not snapped out of it and come to my senses in this very pivotal moment!

I vowed to myself that I was no longer going to save my best outfits for any reason! I would no longer let the inner critic, which echoed the voices of other people's insecurities, force me into watering down the real me in effort to blend in. And since doing so, I've been sporting my favorite looks, getting lots of stares, and compliments and offers to buy the robe of many colors that was handmade with love, amongst other pieces made by my sister.”

Excerpt from my December 2024 Amber Grant Essay

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