I’m pretty sure my wedding dress is still in there–though I can’t be totally sure since I haven’t opened that box since the cleaners sealed it in 1971.
They buried my husband’s grandmother in hers. If I passed on today, there’s not a chance they’d be able to squeeze me into mine.
Not. A. Chance.
I can’t say it doesn’t bother me.
I notice things that maybe others wouldn’t give a second thought.
Like how that MSU shirt seems to make things that roll and sag more prominent—that I didn’t see until I saw a photo. That shirt’s in the goodbye bag now.
Like how much broader my shoulders and how much wider my upper arms seem, along with the back-of-the-hand crepe.
Like how my waistband slides up. We won’t mention the bunions or the skin tags.
I can definitely say it all bothers me.
But what will I do about it? Join me over at BibleDude.net today.