I’m fugging myself

I have a major problem: I cannot put clean clothes away.

This all stems from my utter loathing of my wardrobe, but it has now reached a critical point. I have one completely empty drawer in my dresser and a full basket of once-folded but many-times-rooted-through clothes at the foot of my bed as well as a teetering stack of questionably clean ones in a chair in the corner. I think I keep hoping that if my clothes are jumbled up in a pile instead of neatly laid out that new, fabulous, flattering clothes will spontaneously generate amid the chaos. To my knowledge this has not happened yet.

I used to joke with my sister that if she called TLC’s What Not to Wear that I would make sure to dress in my oldest, frumpiest clothes for the days that they were “secretly” taping me and then pretend to be SHOCKED and DISMAYED when they revealed themselves and then take that $5000 Visa card and go wild. Tragically, it has now been so long since I have purchased anything new to wear that I don’t think she would have to give me the heads up first. They could just straight up video me like I am and all of America would shake their heads at my garb and say “Honeychild, please.”

I just need to buck up and put those clothes away though, because it’s been three days of wearing mismatched socks, a sports bra and granny panties. Can scrunchies and tapered pants be far behind? God help me.

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