Hips Don't Lie

Most people attach memories to photos. Research says that many people also attach memories to scents. While I agree with both of those "mental scrapbooking" methods, I also use clothing as a means of remembering moments in life.

Old Navy burgundy halter top. I had this shirt in college and it was definitely my attempt at dressing sexy. I quite like my collar bone area and halter tops easily draw attention to that area. I remember wearing this shirt while dating John. I remember Friday evening, in particular, when we were supposed to meet up with his friends at Charlie Brown's...yes, the now defunct Charlie Brown's Steakhouse.  Apparently, Charlie Brown's was the hip place for the Chathamites to gather.  

It was the spring, a few months before I turned 21 years old. It was after ten and we were sitting at a table, but it was near the bar area. I had that burgundy halter top on, trying to be "sexy" for the evening. Regular evening wear for me was a tshirt, with hooded sweatshirt over, old jeans, and Birks. 

The night I tried to be sexy turned into the night where I got kicked out of the bar. Even though we weren't drinking, or attempting to order drinks, they made us leave because I was not 21.

Burgundy halter top. 10 years later. I am now age 31. I weigh about 13 pounds more than I weighed during the Charlie Brown's episode. I haven't worn this shirt for ages. Right now, I just tried it on. The shirt fits well on top--- collar bone still looks sexy, shoulders and arms are decent-looking, and the shirt is slightly loose on my belly. DAMN hips and ass though. With jeans, this shirt looks ridiculous. My top part of my body looks small and then you hit my mid-section and, wow, hips and ass. The lower portion of my body seems to be hinting, "Time to make a baby. Use those birthing hips." Me, I just want to tell my body, "Fuck off."