seven-year old leggings / earrings from the 80s

Daily writing prompt

What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

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I’ve been meaning to get new leggings. Seven years is a long time. I don’t know what it is about these leggings that make me so reluctant to throw them out actually that’s a lie lmfao I actually do.

I’ve been a late bloomer for most of my life, courtesy of the company of demons living in the shadows in the cursed castle in which I had no choice but to reside during the formative years of my life. These leggings had come with another, seven years ago, when I was still an undergrad in college.

The first time in my life, when the demons residing in the grooves of my brain had decided to listen. To shut the fuck up. To ignore the demons of childhood past screaming at me, yelling is this good quality you shouldn’t buy things if they aren’t good quality because that’s wasting money you shouldn’t do x when you buy clothes look at your body do you even know how to dress yourself etc etc etc…

Such are the demons residing in the grooves of the brains of people desperate to play the same games, to fill the holes in their heart. Such is the nature of people so insecure at having been given more in the world, that they need to chalk their ability to distinguish high- from low-quality to a character trait that is an indication of goodness/worthiness/all the qualities that universally escape all those that walk this green earth, all the things that we already are, that we’re too afraid to accept.

The leggings were 10 bucks each. And I bought them. Mine. Super-completely-and-totally-mine. I didn’t buy them because I should have. I didn’t buy them because they were insanely good quality made from material sourced from idk the countryside of Italy or something. That’s not to say I wouldn’t throughly enjoy an article of clothing made from rare fabrics sourced from Italy because I absolutely-fucking would…but I didn’t have the demons of insecure college students telling me what to do and I had finally looked inward long enough to understand that the demons of my housemates were just that. Demons.

And when I saw their demons, the ones in my brain shut the fuck up.

Anyway, seven years is a long time. I’ve lost a ton of weight since having made the decision to live from the heart–I brace myself less because fewer are the occurrences of situations in my life where I have to brace for impact. When you’re constantly bracing for impact, I imagine your body puts on weight to cushion the fall/to shield you from the force of whatever you don’t want to happen/deal with very clearly coming your way. But I digress–the leggings don’t even fit anymore. They’re all stretched out because seven years is a long time.

But they’re mine. These leggings are MINE.

Also, these really cute, functional studs from the 80s that my mom gave to me before I went to college.

Happy Thursday :D.