0 comments

Fiction Friendship

"Look how short your pants are"!My cousin looked at my short, fortrell purple,and yellow, paisley pants. "Those are way too small" she laughed outloud, only the way, a seven year old, could laugh at something. I looked down at my favorite pants, and wondered what in earth happened to my pants. "How did these get so short" then we screamed in laughter again. Neither one of us having a clue how pants got short anyways. I was six, and remember these, beautiful " in style at the time slacks". I did not want them to get thrown in the clothing giveaway box to anyone. My grandmother professed, that I grew. That was the first time ever, that I was conscious, of my ability, to grow taller. I guess, I thought, you just stayed a kid, forever. Much prodding, consoling, and deeking me out, while my pants had eventually, been given away. I shortly forgot about them, until about thirty five years old.


After recovering, from the pants episode, we shortly went to the store. A four year old, a five year old, and a seven year old. What a combination. We promptly, traded our twelve pennies, for the four quarters, that the littlest one had, and bought candy. Of course, we shared. We delighted, in tricking the littlest one of us into trading her" big money" ( four quarters) for the multitude of change (the pennies). The older two, knowing the value of a quarter, made us pretty darn smart. That was the conscious reality, sinking in, about dollars. I now knew, I grew up quickly. Therefore, shortly after, I then I found out, lots of change, didn't mean, you necessarily, had alot more money. You must learn these tricks at five, or forever be the one, losing.


I guess, over the years, our sock bag had become a nasty pit, of unmatched socks. Our punishment, for not doing our chores, had repricissions, the sock bag sorting. Many times, I wanted to sneak that whole bag of socks, out to the garbage. I couldnt though, because we had tried that once, and walked around with unmatched socks, for months. I learned that you can't, get rid of things, that you may need. Especially, essentials, like socks in the winter.


Over all, my childhood, and the growing out of my clothing, and chores, and such, was great. No one, complained to much. Being a child, seemed to bring on the fact, that almost everyone, had something to do in the world. I just didn't know, what it would be. My biggest aspiration, at ten or eleven, was to make ice cream cones, at Dairy Queen. I couldnt figure out, what the big joke was, and why it was not okay,to have these high hopes, like making cones as a career. Wasn't it a job. Adults all had jobs, mine would be making cones. Yes, maybe you could eat all the ice cream you wanted, if, you were a professional cone maker. Why not?


After realizing, that if you went to school, and had good grades, you could get into university. I decided, I would not finish my studies. I would find the right man, and have a baby. Thoughts of baby smells, and babies, wouldn't detour me, from the family thing, no way. Until Cashauna, had a little, tiny, baby at seventeen. Well little Amber was a doll, I must admit, but boy, did she cry alot. This quenched, my motherly desires, until fifty. All dreams of a perfect husband, were squashed too, as my first " real boyfriend" seemed to like my friends, as much as he liked me. So I was over it.


Next, would be the real job hunting. My careful calculations of rent, and things like that, did not include food. I forgot, that I had to eat. So, was I lucky, to get a job at a grocery store, that sold bulk items. Yaay, no serious hunger. I lived on cheap chocolate. You know the ones they make those beautiful, santa and snowman, shaped chocolates out of. The kind, that dont melt, in your mouth, waxy chocolate. I lived on it. I felt okay about it, because, it was not the expensive items. I assumed, that my new bosses, could keep me alive, sustaining me, for about a year or so, on wax and cocoa. This, was a sixteen year olds way to survive. Unfortunately, after quitting this job I had one pair of pants that fit. The rest to small. Off to the clothing gods, of earth, went my clothes.


Since then, I often think, about the boxes of clothing, and the bags of socks, that never ended. I mostly think, about how, that, I have never, ever, ended my first, favorite pants throwaway. It is eternal attire giveaway. I have kept this tradition, with girlfriends trading clothes, in our special " give away box or bag" for decades now. So, when your small, this is a great lesson, in sharing your old stuff, when you grow out of something. By putting it in a heap, of fabric, and sewed items. As an adult, growing out of something you used to wear, isn't an extraordinarily amazing discovery, as it is when your younger. Usually, running to the scale, when Gail comes over, after trying, to try on clothes, that you don't wear anymore. Finding out, last summers shorts, that you were going to give away, because you were tired of them anyways, don't fit anyway. Makes it an entire "Do you want all my summer stuff,Gail" instead, an extravaganza. Oh well, you've been giving clothes away since you were five, you'll never quit now. Nope, not with the invite, of going to Gail's closet comes along. Nope, easy clothes come, easy clothes go. Good thing, count our blessings, that we live in a society, where we have lots of clothing.


Dont forget the thrift store, the treasure hunt of them all, in the clothing department. "Over here, check it out, these shoes, twenty bucks, never worn", becomes a statement, that always comes out of your mouth, when there. Doesn't it? "Look! A shirt, with the price tag, still on it". You have got to buy it. It's only five bucks. Then hangs in your closet, for three years, until Gail comes over, with her box or bag, of clothing to trade. For your information, twenty, of the five dollar shirts. That you don't wear, ever. These don't make up for, one, one hundred dollar shirt you wear semimonthly. Honestly, the only one you making happy, is Gail.


So in a nutshell, love the clothing box, sneak a peek. Inhale the thrift store. You never know what treasures, or what you will learn, from an old item of clothing. The End lee-Anne Lenore(please notice hack)



March 29, 2022 22:06

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments