About a Dress

Yes, I’m writing about a dress…hear me out; I’ve had this dress in my closet for years. I rarely wear it but insisted on being photographed in it. Deciding that my dress is a metaphor or symbol for something more. Why am I hanging on to it? Better yet, why don’t I wear it? I’m constantly editing my closet, mainly because I have limited space for anything new, or sadly they don’t fit. I have always been a “less is more” kind of girl, making room for new items. So…the fact that this dress is still hanging in my closet perplexes me.
If I’m being entirely honest with myself, and yes, I’m overthinking this, I can hear you saying, WTF, it’s just a dress! Yes, but don’t we overthink a lot of things? Isn’t there something or someone we like to hang on to or cling to? Perhaps, we’re unsure if it’s due to a memory or a fantasy? Are you following? My dress represents something from my past; it was an expensive purchase, and the person I wanted to notice was ignoring me. It didn’t matter what I was wearing, feeling defeated in the end. Here’s the thing, I have definitely moved on from that moment, promising myself, I never want to experience that feeling again. I deserve to be with someone special who will notice me, appreciate me and make time for me. Maybe I’m hanging on to a fantasy?
I have to believe, going forward, it’s not really about the dress; it’s the emotions and feelings attached to a moment. In the mean time, I will definitely be trying on new dresses (any excuse to go shopping), making sure they fit perfectly in all the right places, curves and all. As for a special someone, well, they also need to fit in all the right places, fitting perfectly with me.



2 thoughts on “About a Dress

  1. I have a dress just like it. It’s been in my closet for over three years, even moving with me to my first “single mom” home. I only wore it once, and it made me feel amazing and beautiful and confident – but it didn’t matter. That’s where the memory ends, there was no Cinderella moment where he finds me and can’t believe his good fortune. There is no memory of beaming pride when he saw me cross that crowded cocktail party to get to him, actually he almost didn’t introduce me to the group he was standing amongst. The dress fit me like a glove, in a shape and size I worked incredibly hard to be, a shape and size I no longer resemble. But I keep it in my closet anyway. I’ve given away most of my “dress up” clothes and pieces that no longer fit, but I consciously keep this one dress. Hope? Possibly. To fit it again one day, maybe. But mostly to have a reason, or a someone, that would make me want to be able to wear it again knowing that it would finally get its happy ending with all of the good memories it deserves. Keep the dress.


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