I blame this all on the Sex and the City movie.
All I wanted was for my closet to look a little less like this:
And a little more like this:
Can you blame me? It will probably never happen…but a girl can dream.
And a girl can certainly get rid of some old clothes.
Even before (almost) moving into the Manhattan Penthouse, Ms. Bradshaw herself cleaned out her “starter” closet on the Upper East Side.
When I invited my sister Hayley over to help me sort through my wardrobe, I imagined the event would play out just like this scene.
Much like the movie, we had wine, and even a tutu.
Unfortunately, our evening more closely resembled Eminem’s rendition of “Cleanin’ out my Closet”:
I said I’m sorry momma
I never meant to hurt you
I never meant to make you cry
But tonight, I’m cleanin’ out my closet
Mother…I want to sincerely apologize for the clothing and behavior that emerged from the closet last night.
It will never happen again.
It all started out when H tried on a romper from my “toss” pile.
It’s not my fault. Kourtney Kardashian made me buy it.
I don’t know what came over me…but delusions of having Audrina Patridge’s thighs seeped into my consciousness, and I opted to try the romper once more. For old time’s sake.
From the front, it didn’t look half bad.
Unfortunately the back
slightly resembles could easily be mistaken for a black satin diaper.
But maybe if I just did a few more squats at the gym?
I quickly became distracted by H’s encounter with the other romper in the “toss” pile.
But it didn’t stop there. Things quickly went downhill after snapping the photo below.
Relax. It’s from Target. What kind of girl do you take me for?
The good news is that we were both rolling on the floor in hysterics after seeing this photo.
The bad news is I had already gotten my 64 ounces of water for the day.
The even worse news is that I was unable to free myself from the black romper without someone who had the presence of mind to unzip me.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ruined a perfectly good onesie.
It happens to the best of us. Right?
I’m taking this whole thing as a sign from God. That yard of shiny fabric is never meant to see the light of day.
I’m pretty sure Scott would be filing the divorce papers if I hadn’t been clever enough to blame the “incident” on the dog.
Just kidding, it really wasn’t very much at all. Like, not even a teaspoon.
But I did learn that just because something looks like a black satin diaper doesn’t mean it absorbs like a black satin diaper.
H knew just what to do. She quickly cheered me up by suggesting I have my very own SJP moment.
Whatever. GTL is the new SJP.
And it’s not like I wear this to the office or anything…clearly this is a workout tutu.
I promise it will make more sense after I post photos from my trip to hip-hop kickboxing camp.
Yes, I’m going to hip-hop kickboxing camp.
On that note, I’m going to go lie down in my romper-free closet and cry myself to sleep.
At least R-Kelly will be my friend.
Doesn’t he like urine and closets?