2002-09-10 at 11:11 p.m.
Today, our Concert Practice teacher stood up at the beginning of class and said- "Now, we think some of you aren't taking this class seriously..."
Jordan sat next to me, grinning and elbowing me meaningfully in the ribs.
Yesterday, while doing my best Lady MacBeth impression, I decided to take it one step further. Yea, the time had arrived for the Annual Clothing Exodus (ACE)- that hallowed time when I delve deep into my wardrobe, pull out some neglected and long forgotten garment, and exclaim in wonderment, "What the fuck was I thinking?"
Yes, I found a lot of unfortunate clothing during the ACE. Here is a short list of some of the crap I unearthed-
1 khaki green skirt with big black triangles (that had been cut with pinking shears) glued to it
1 purple dress I wore when going through my unfortunate 'gothic' phase
4 pairs of not-exactly-clean undies circa 1998
1 pair boxer shorts with giant hole in the arse
1 pair cargo pants which fit like leggings
1 pair exceedingly ugly foam flip-flops
Still, there were some things I just couldn't bring myself to part with.
2 formal dresses from yr10 and yr12 formals respectively, and which I don't fit into anymore.
3 pairs high heels. I regard heels as 'portable torture chambers'. That, and my high centre of gravity tends to make me totter on them. Add alcohol to the equation, and I'm a collapsing-in-an-ungainly-fashion-into-a-table-laden-with-other-people's-drinks waiting to happen.
1 pair pyjamas with only two remaining buttons left on the top half. The remaining buttons were actually cut from my vinyl coat to repair the pyjamas.
1 black vinyl coat. Missing two buttons.
I took the unwanted clothes down to the local op-shop (official outfitter of yours truly), who were very grateful. Wait until they open those bags and realise the horrors they've unleashed.
In a way, it's nice to think that my old clothes are out there, creating new and glorious destinies for themselves. One day, another person will reach deep into their wardrobe, pull out a piece of my ex-clothing, and exclaim- "What the fuck was I thinking?"
My father tells me that I was in fact in the Sunday Telegraph. The Gayest Man in the Whole Wide World would have been pleased. I wonder if he read the caption beneath the picture and wondered what happened to Christine. I'll try to get a copy to post up here.
And, finally, let's see what my evil shoulder angel has to say today...
Why, thank you, evil shoulder angel. I believe I shall.
