Some kids come out of the closet…mine went in

The day I both anticipated with excitement and fear has come. A day I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about once it arrived but have come to embrace as a milestone (of a sort). A day that will set the stage for many mother/daughter entanglements moving forward.

Drum roll please…no, wait, forget the drum roll –  this announcement deserves a more regal prelude.  Can I get some trumpets, horns, maybe a trombone? Scratch the more modern wind instruments, a shofar (goy translation: ram’s horn) is more fitting since this is really about a sacrifice.

(Shofar blasts 3 times.)

Margaret can fit into most of my clothes – and shoes.

It all started very innocently. She asked if she could borrow a few articles of clothing so she could participate in Disney-inspired day for her art conservatory at school and she chose to be Cinderella. Yes, I was insulted that she thinks my wardrobe would be a viable place to find the type of clothing that Cinderella wears. No, I didn’t let on that I was insulted. Yes, that was nearly impossible. And yes, to my surprise (and realization that I really need to update my wardrobe), she found said items.

Once she realized that my clothes (more or less) fit her, she began to raid my closet. After trying on half of my wardrobe as extravagantly as Vivian in Pretty Woman trying on outfits in that upscale Rodeo Drive store (less the metal o-ring holding together the blue tie die skirt and white tank, and Roy Orbison accompaniment) she turned her focus onto my shoes. Behaving more like Cinderella’s delusional step-sisters, she tried on each pair, squealing over how “perfectly they fit her feet!” as her heels slipped out of them farther than they do in a sling back shoe bellowing, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to wear these shoes!”

Since that day, Margaret hasn’t left my closet. Oh sure, physically she’s come out of the closet. But not mentally. Every opportunity she gets to go back in and she’s there, rummaging through articles of clothing until she’s put together the perfect outfit.
I admit, my closet was never going to make it into HGTV (unless it was a “before” the closet makeover” picture) but it now blouses are hanging partially off the hangar, types of clothing are in the wrong places (casual skirts are mingling with dress pants), random clothes are lying in clumps on the floor. My closet has become an aisle in Nordstrom Rack. The day after Thanksgiving.

I’m okay with all of it though. See, Margaret inherently has a better sense of style than I do. So as onerous as it is having to carefully consider which pieces of clothing in my closet are worth letting her wear now and which she’ll have to wait until I am too old or fat to wear (whichever comes first), it has given me new perspective on this situation and here it is: If she can fit into my clothes, I can fit into hers.

I am curious though – is this a common situation?










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