just a thought…

I hate clothing.

While the reasons behind my hatred are laid out here, the underlying mental issues that bring such reasons forward remains unknown. Almost everyone I know dresses nice (usually), and has multiple articles of clothing that can be used in any given situation. My own brother (well…one of the 3) I’ve accused of being a “metro” because his closet would probably rival his girlfriend’s; not to mention his shoe selection. If I was able to, I would wear the same clothing every day; provided that it didn’t get worn out or stinky. Maybe I’d change it up once a month or quarter, but I wouldn’t deviate much. I would wear a pair of jeans, or jean-shorts and a t-shirt of my choosing, until I felt the need for something different. Like the background picture on my computer; I change it when I feel like it. The background doesn’t represent my computer in the slightest. A shallow depth-of-field, macro picture of blades of grass, does not give anyone the slightest clue as to what my computer contains, or is capable of, nor does it reflect on it’s current mood or wants and desires.

In my possession (this is a rough estimate, since counting such objects would be beneath me) I have a dozen t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, one khaki short, three cotton shorts (for sleeping and lounging), several articles of undergarments and socks, five button-up/down (depending upon your preference) dress shirts, two pairs of dress shoes, one pair of street shoes, and three new pairs of khaki pants. The last articles of clothing being the inspiration for this entry. Before the three, there was but one lonely pair of very comfortable and well fitting khaki pants.

And it was that this pair of khakis were the sole covering of my legs while I was at work.

…Until I began to notice that the crotch-region was beginning to slowly thin and deteriorate. It started as a barely noticeable thinning of the threads; I initially counted this as a bonus of my trusty pair of pants. I thought they were rewarding me for being so faithful to them for so many months. You see, the thinning provided for better air flow and cooling to an area that usually procures moisture and heat as the hard day at work wears on. Then, small holes started forming. I began to worry, and it was shortly after this that my pants informed me that our relationship was over. I had misread all of the signals, and there was nothing I could do.

Knowing that things were pretty much over between us, I took them out for one last date, to try and patch things up. It was during some mild acrobatics that were needed for me to reach an awkwardly placed network switch; that it ended. Rip went my heart, went my pants, went one of my best friends. In a seemingly desperate attempt to remove themselves from my body, the little holes that had began to form, grew exponentially and joined forces. The holes were enormous, irreparable and devastating.

After we arrived home, matters were made worse by my pants informing me that they had no money, and no where to go, and insisted that they continue to live with me until they could make it on their own. Crushed by this news, I immediately went to the store, and brought three classy dress pants home with me for the evening. They felt good, and have agreed to help me carry on during this time of hardship. But as good as they are, they make me feel guilty, and at times worse about the recent events that have transpired…………

Granted, none of this really had to do with why I hate clothing, or more specifically, why I hate BUYING clothing. Yes, I bought three pairs of dress pants the other day, and I hated it; I hated every minute of the experience. I walked in, found the men’s clothing section, picked out my size in three different varieties, paid ($17.99 each) and left. All in all, the entire operation lasted about 10 – 15 minutes. I didn’t even bother trying them on first. The only reason I bought three? So as to delay myself having to buy more at any point in the near future. These three pairs of dress pants should last me a good long while, assuming that my waist does neither expand or contract by more than it has in recent times.

I think it has to do with the fact that I wore a LOT of hand-me-downs while I was growing up. I seldom had “new” clothes, and I didn’t really care either way. Money was tight, and I’d rather eat than look pretty. I’d rather have a new toy than a new shirt for Sunday School. I’d rather have the money to blow on something/someone I cared about than a new pair of penny-loafers. All this coming from the man who had no problem spending $375 on a new video card, $800 on a camera then $450 on a better lens for it, and over $1000 on a server that he just “needed”. I guess people have different priorities, and clothing is not one of mine. As long as it covers my body, makes me look hottt (with three “t”s for maximum hotttness), looks like it was produced during this decade, is easy to maintain and looks good and ready to wear after being picked up off the floor….I’ll wear it.

Don’t even get me started on my hair…

This entry was posted on Friday, June 23rd, 2006 at 1:13 am and is filed under Rantz. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.