I’m (not) a material girl

One of the funniest things my ex has said to me was that I am materialistic.

I buy the majority of my clothing second hand, get it from former fat friends or my mum buys them. If I ever do buy new clothing its from Asda. I think the most expensive clothing item in my wardrobe is a reduced £90 dress that I wore to my cousins wedding and will soon be used again for another wedding (if I had my way it would also be used for my bridesmaids dress at my sisters nuptials).

I don’t consider myself to be materialistic, yes I have a lot of things. I’m a hoarder of items and I would class myself as being sentimental if anything. Until the “burn day” came I still had a box filled with items I had collected during my relationship with HIM. Napkins from dates, tickets to the cinema, love notes written on scrappy bits of paper and dried flowers, I kept them because they reminded me of happy times that we had spent together. He has nothing like this. Manuals to old long since thrown computers, wires that are bent and broken are kept neatly all over this flat, I don’t even think he ever had a picture of me in his wallet, let alone on his phone.

To be told that I am materialistic as I stood in a second hand dress and torn leggings amused me greatly. He chose I who drips in mummy’s money and whose every second word is a designer. I often wonder if she was born with a tiny Fendi purse and Jimmy Choo shoes. He himself has, since losing a lot of weight, brought countless designer items. One of my favourites has to be the electric blue snood or the skinny black jeans. This is a man who asked to come to a friends wedding in workmen’s trousers!

One of the last things I said to him (we’ve not spoken in nearly three months, despite living in the same flat) was money can’t buy you happiness and neither can turning yourself into a 30 something hipster. Whenever I feel down I think of his blue snood and laugh. I also remember that despite it all, I’ve never not been myself. I still wear random things – Christmas jumpers in January, formal dresses to work, men’s tap esq shoes etc, I still like to dance around my kitchen in my pants and I still have the same friends.

If I can get anything out of this all at least I can hold my head up and say “I’m me, I’ve always been me. And I’m pretty fucking awesome!”

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