"I've Seen Everything About Me Change"

A Few Thoughts on Too-Small Clothes and Long-Lost Friends

May 10, 2024

With Spring now having sprung, I’ve been watching tons of Spring Closet Clean-out videos on YouTube. They are usually 15-30 minute-long videos of women going through their massive closets and trying things on to determine what to keep and what to give away. Many of them are women I’ve followed for years. They are mostly in their late-20s and early-30s. I’ve watched them grow up, get married, and make lives for themselves, all while finding my own way.

As they tried on their unwanted clothes and rediscovered lost favorites, I noticed a startling trend. More than once, all of them said “These jeans/pants no longer fit me, and that’s okay. I’m no longer 16 anyway.”

Inspired by their organizational efforts and forgiving self-awareness, I decided to finally go through what’s left of my closet since moving to NYC. Digging through all the suitcases, under-bed storage bins, and laundry baskets, I found several pairs of denim shorts I used to wear daily from May-August when I lived in a place with humidity that warranted such a wardrobe choice. With the impending warm weather, I decided to try them all on, excited and ready to see what I could still wear.

None of them fit me anymore.

Recently, I also spent a wonderful evening with an old friend from high school. It was great to catch up, reconnect, and ride the nostalgia train for a couple of hours, hundreds of miles away from the place that reared us.

What struck me about our dinner was how often we agreed on the particulars of our new, but similar lives. More than once, we both said “Exactly! It’s sort of like that thing you just said…” We bonded over losing touch with our high school friend groups after graduation. We caught up on our adult lives and how strange the world has become.

More than all of this, I was grateful that someone I used to know was actually glad to see me. Over the last 8 years, I’ve lost so many people. Be it my own bad choices or just the growing, inevitable distance, I’ve watched my friendships grow, change, and fade like the seasons. With the exception of a select few, I’ve watched my peers grow up on Facebook and Instagram. They have babies and careers and spouses and families.

None of them fit me anymore.

I turn 27 this year, and my denim shorts from high school no longer fit. I turn 27 this year, and my friends from high school and college no longer fit. Those shorts and that dinner are just more reminders of what used to be and no longer is.

Something happened to me in the years between taking the unsteady walk across the stage at my high school graduation and overhearing the endless gripes over crappy Proms and humiliating senior portraits from the mouths of the 19-year-olds I teach.

I think most people would agree it's just growing up. At some point, we all shed old skins, make new friends, and build lives independently of those we once called our ride-or-dies. We move away, or carve out new, varied lives in our hometowns. We let go of first loves and old flames and move towards more stable, long-lasting relationships, capable of withstanding even the heaviest of blows.

This all hit me the other day when, after that wonderful dinner, I rode the train back home to Manhattan from Coney Island and realized I’d acquired every article of clothing I was wearing that night within the last year. There are no lingering ex-boyfriend flannels or denim short-shorts from yesteryear left in my closet. There is no real part of 16-year-old me left in my current worldly possessions, just the fragile, attention-seeking kid buried deep in my psyche. I give her a hug and a shoulder squeeze every once in a while. I tell her, “It’s okay. You did the best you could with what you had.” I give her more grace for her mistakes. I forgive her in kind.

And now? I just try and tell my 26-year-old self the following:

I no longer have the body I did at 16 or 20. It’s okay. I no longer move through the world unintentionally or with an air of spontaneity. I just try and live like the past doesn’t bother me anymore. I try and live in such a way that people no longer see fear behind my eyes, but peace. I try and live like I’m not broken inside.

And every step I take into this brave new world, I feel a little less broken. I feel a little less like the choices I made before this place will follow me around forever. I feel a little more like going out and meeting new people who never knew me with braces. I feel a little more like letting go of old grudges no longer worth holding. I listen to the songs every one of them sent me, and I smile. After all, knowing someone for just a moment is better than never knowing them at all.

Here’s what I’ve been reading lately:

The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness by Jonathan Haidt