My Closet! Or—Why I Never Find Anything to Wear!
Closet closet in my room
In the darkness my clothes do loom
Rumpled, smooshed, wrinkled, or pressed
Doesn’t matter—it makes me depressed.
Skirt too big, slacks don’t fit
Is it any wonder I throw a fit?
Neckline too high, I’ll look like a nun
Or plunging too low, I ain’t that much fun!
This t-shirt is short, that one’s too long
All these tops are wrong, wrong, wrong.
The sweater is bulky, the wool is itchy
The other’s clingy, no doubt why I’m so b****y
These jeans are baggy, those pants stretch out
Is it any wonder, a gal stresses out?
This skirt’s a bit short—I’ll need some tights
Maybe then, it might look alright.
What was I thinking when I bought this blouse?
It will never, ever make it out of the house.
Too see through, too trashy, too black, too red
Maybe I’ll just go back to bed.
Hideous stripes, tacky print
This might work—but it’s covered in lint.
I know! I know what I must do.
I must purge before I replace with new.
THIS time, I’ll organize by color and style
Then maybe, I wouldn’t get so darn riled.
But I just hate to toss the too tight clothes
Because every girl knows
That next month—for sure—I’ll go to the gym
Then everything—almost everything—will fit once again.
Give it up! Throw it out! Give it away!
That’s what well-meaning friends and my husband say.
I’m not brave, not that bold,
So I remove a few items and begin to fold.
These clothes shall go into a plastic box
and there remain, my own fabric Fort Knox.
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