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A TGB READER STORY: The Skeleton in My Closet

By Cowtown Pattie of Texas Trifles

The skeleton living in my closet is a cross-dresser. A skinny transvestite who thinks he is Versace. Giani Versace. I tell him "Giani" should be spelled with two n's, but he says he's too thin for the extra wasted consonant.

Every morning when I pull the chain to the overhead bare bulb in my closet, Giani groans and tries to hide his eyes in an old but elegant wool muffler with a moth hole that I bought in an estate sale.

He says the previous owner had better taste than me - the label in the side seam says "NeimanMarcus". Giani keeps it draped over his head so everyone can see it. (Like there's ever any vistors to my closet.)

I know he's checked all the labels on the blouses, pants, sweaters and jackets and found them lacking to his discerning eye. That is if he had eyes. I sometimes imagine those empty sockets of bone have amber gold eyes like a lynx.

There isn't much in my wardrobe for Giani to borrow nowadays; once I was a size 9 and forever had to strip him to bare bone so I could wear my favorite Sergio Valenti pair of jeans. Once I accidentally snapped short an index finger that he had stuck through a belt loop during such an argument.

It didn't hurt, he only protested with a whiney voice in his stupid fake Italian accent, "I'm-a beggin' your paw-doan!”

He can be such a vamp, but at least he is good-natured and doesn't try to blackmail me. Much. I laugh and tickle his ribs and tell him he has no pockets for his ill-gotten gains.

But he hates my fat clothes, especially plus sizes that come from Cato's or Macy's. "Get skinny and buy some decent rags! You could shop at The Loft or Nordstroms!" His lamentations are not unreasonable, but certainly tiresome.

Once I bought a traveler's set of slacks and jacket from Chico's - in black. You know that stretchy fabric that defies wrinkles even stuffed long hours in a suitcase? Giani kept pulling the suit off the hanger; it was constantly puddled in my closet floor among my shoes.

Shoes. Oh, lord, I won't even go there.

When we sell our house and move, I wonder if I could manage to pack Giani up in a box to Goodwill? Surely someone would love having his European fashion sense for their very own.

Or, maybe I could donate him to a medical school. He would hate that, hanging from a sterile stainless steel pole with nothing but white sheets in sight for draping. White isn't his color, you know. Too much like camouflage.

Sigh. Giani is too much a part of me. But, maybe you could invite him for a sleep-over with your skeleton? Did I mention he was skinny and doesn't take up much closet space?

* * *

[EDITORIAL NOTE: Reader's stories are welcome. If you have not published here or not recently, please read submission instructions. Only one story per email.]

Comments

Well, that was a fun read, indeed! I'd take Giani, but my daily outfits would give him fits for sure. Old, scuffed Fatbaby boots, stretch jeans, most days no bra, and some second hand, beloved sweater from the thrift shop. And hair, well.........you know those cheap combs with the razor blades between the teeth? That's my hairdresser these days, why drive 12 miles, pay too much, and come out looking like someone who's not me? And don't let Giani give you any guff, either, after all, he's going around stark naked! Thanks for the grins!

I love love love it ! I admit that I, too, am a label snob even though I shop at the thrift stores...why not take advantage of someone's cast off when the item is fashionable, perfectly good, (or will be after it gets a spin in my washing machine) my size and nicely priced with a huge reduction over what it originally cost.

Glad to read that he approves of your "NeimanMarcos" wool muffler, and I hope he
can continue in his present residence - my closet is too small and crowded for him.

His brother lives at my house, Joan.

I MEAN PATTI!

I laughed at your particular dilemma, Patti. Thank you for sharing your talented way with descriptive  words. Perhaps you too will smile at another dilemma, The "skeleton" in my closet is ME ! 

When I came to Portland to be near my son after my husband died, I was 5'6'' tall.  Now in only 3 years and several fractured vertebrae I'm 5'2''. Folks of our 'vintage' can remember the great old song..." 5 foot 2, eyes of blue, OH what those feet can do!!"  Don't believe it!  

I've been startled by the changes simple loss of height brings. I remind myself of a sweet handmade cashmere sweater I was so fond of that ended up accidentally tossed into the clothes dryer.  No need to draw a picture of that event beyond the tears shed long ago, but now it is me. Shrunk, misshaped, lumpy, and the rib cage where my waist used to be...resting on the hip bone crest!  And that Radiologist (looking for fractures) said "The hips are unremarkable!!"  Should I be insulted or what? 

Nothing in that closet fits anymore. I have altered my favorite things as much as possible but think it's time to follow Joan's great advice and visit my favorite "Boutique"...AKA-The Salvation Army's great  thrift store.  They have the older styles that suit an older lady like me....lumpy or not.  Thanks for the idea, Joan.

What a happy silly grin I got from Giani......you Do have sly wit in describing him, my dear.
All the folks who have watched their clothes shrink and grow misshapen ...all of us totally get it.

Thanks for the smiles!

What a hoot! Thanks for the laughs, Pattie.

This is great Cowtown Pattie!

Am still laughing over "he says he's too thin for the extra wasted consonant."

Thanks. Love ending the day with a laugh.

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