fitforafemme.com

Awhile ago, AYL requested photos of my closet. Spring hadn’t quite sprung yet, and my closet was a disaster. Full of lovely things, yes, but a disaster. I wanted to mine it, sift through it, tear the weeds out of it and let the sartorial soil begin anew.

Alright, alright – let’s just be honest and cut the bullshit. M made me get rid of things, basically. We are moving in June, after all. Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnneeee.

By then it was okay, because Spring HAD sprung and buoyed me along with it, and while they’re still in bags waiting to be sold or donated, I got rid of three very stuffed large paper bags worth of stuff (say that with a maximum amt. of disdain, like Miranda Priestley in The Devil Wears Prada). Which means y’all, at long ever-lovin’ last, get pics of my closet. A moment of silence, please, for what only has a few more months to live:

God bless the walk-in.
God bless the square footage.
God bless the lighting, which was just repaired.

I WILL NOT FIND THIS IN SAN FRANCISCO, KITTENS. No sirree. I really have no bloody fucking idea what I am going to do, because M wants me to also get rid of The Beast (I am still fighting her on that – “We must wait!” I cry, “We must wait until we see where we will be living because what if we need it? What if it serves as a divider betwixt living and dining? Home office and living? Or maybe…in the room, for my shoes. By God, woman, let’s don’t argue – just WAIT!”).

Before I go off to cry broken, heaving sobs of defeat, here’s a little bit more. We like it up close and personal here at FFAF.