When Are We Allowed To Be Bitchy Again?

I guess because of the seamstress stuff my mom and grandma did, we were always being given free clothes. It was always really nice stuff, in amazing condition. Even though I was the oldest and not supposed to have hand-me-downs, I didn't mind.

All three of us got new stuff even with the free stuff. Twice a year we'd go shopping - once when school started, and again right before the summer. And then everybody died, we moved, and ever since then all our clothes have come from Target and Old Navy clearance sections.

We used to have different pajamas for every night, and some matching ones. Now we almost always just sleep in whatever shirt we wore during the day. If this were Kentucky or Ohio or someplace else where people don't care about clothes maybe it wouldn't matter. But this is New York City. Fashion Week. Tyra has arrived. Tim Gunn. It's all here.

And somehow, all the other kids manage to have American Eagle and Hollister and Abercrombie. While Alex is stuck with shit that's five years old and was bought from Target and already worn by me and Dani.

So yeah it was awesome that a fire family called to say their 6th grader out-grew some clothes and they had a garbage bag full for Alex. We went and picked up the clothes. We said thank you and she'll write them a note. But when we got the bag home and opened it, none of the clothes fit, and Alex cried. I can sew a button and fix a hem. But every single shirt was way too wide - they all could wrap halfway around her back. And every single pair of pants? We could pants her. I can't sew like that.

I mean even if I ripped out the hems on the sides, the collars would be wrong and off-center then. I think Alex has to just give these to somebody else, somebody with a different body. Even if she grows, I don't think she'll grow OUT, just UP. It sucks. Alex said she was the only one in her class who didn't have new shoes on the first day of school.

I miss the smell of new clothes. I miss nice stuff, that doesn't get holes. I miss laying out our clothes that we just bought on the couch. I am tired of having to profusely thank every one who gives us their leftovers. I'm an ungrateful bitch. In shitty clothes.