Now that I’m tall enough, most of my mums clothes fit me, which is great for me because I can just go to her closet, look for her new item of clothing, still fresh from its purchase, and just wear it. My mum on the other hand doesn’t benefit from this as she can’t wear any of my clothes because they’re to small. I don’t know if we can share clothes(by which I mean I can wear her clothes) because she’s very slim for her age (which is late thirties) or because I’m chubby for my age.

Anyway, like most other girls I adore playing dress up in mum’s closet and the best part is that basically everything fits me, so I can just take whatever I want and transfer it to my room, though my mum isn’t exactly all to pleased when I do that. Sometimes we even compromise and intentionally buy stuff that fits us both. But there is always that one item that we both like and both want and we aren’t willing to share, and I then usually argue that it would look better on some one younger (like me) and not an old person, and my mum argues that it’s meant for someone more mature(like her).

The problem is that I have my old stuff and my mum’s old stuff so my dad refuses to buy me more clothes when I have so many, which is why he benefits in both me and my mum sharing clothes. And since I tend to take my mums clothes, she doesn’t have as many as me so my dad buys her new things, which is quite aggravating and unfair in my biased opinion. But my cunning mind has a plan; the more new stuff my mum gets, the more I get because they fit me too. So yay me!!! That’s the routine we have when it comes to our clothes and I don’t know about my mum but I love it.

Not too long ago, I didn’t like getting my mum’s hand-me-downs, I wanted my own new things, not used ones from my mum, that seemed like they were centuries old. But then my mum would urge me to try something on, usually stuff that she used to wear before I was born, or when she was in her teens, and I, grumbling and grim, would go try it on and emerge sulking.
Until, Id see the shimmer in her eyes and smile on her lips. My mum would start to explain the dress’s history, where she got it, when she wore, etc, and I could feel love, happiness and pride literally radiating from her. It sparks her memories of when she wore the dress and how she now felt so thrilled to see me wearing it.

She then goes on to say that maybe some day, I’ll pass the same dress down to my daughter, tell her about both me and my mum’s adventures in this dress. And at that point, when she mentions that, I’d utterly and completely lose the feeling that this precious item of clothing was a hand-me-down. It was a part of my mum, and now a part of me, contains her essence and imprint on it, and soon mind too.

Me and my mum bicker like siblings, laugh like besties, and love one another like family, because we are all those things to each other.




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