Sometimes things don't fit anymore.
When I was younger, we're talking years ago now, I had a strawberry dress. Or rather, I had The Strawberry Dress. I loved this dress so much. Given the chance, I would have worn it all day, everyday, everywhere, regardless of whether it was occasion or weather appropriate. Through the eyes of a six-year-old, it was perfect.
But gradually it started to become a little bit tighter, and a little bit shorter. Not uncomfortable, but still noticeable. So we let the hem down, and I'd tug at the sleeves, willing it to fit for a little bit longer, because I definitely didn't want to stop wearing it. And that worked for a while, but children grow, and soon there was no more hem to let down.
So I took the dress off, but I didn't get rid of it. Instead I kept it folded neatly in my wardrobe, refusing to part with it. It evaded numerous trips to the charity shop because, you know, sentiment. Every so often I'd take it out and imagine just how happy I'd be if I could only wear it one more time. The thing is I knew that, if I tried to squeeze into it, it would probably tear and then be ruined forever.
I don't have the dress anymore. Somewhere down the line I must have let it go. You see, there's only so long you can pull at the sleeves and try and hold onto something that you just can't make fit. It was perfect, for a while, but I'm too old for strawberry dresses now.
Sometimes things don't anymore, and you have to let them go.
Basically, I like clothes and I like really longwinded metaphors, so I combined the two. I started writing something along the lines of this a couple of years back (which I think speaks for itself really) but I could never really give it an ending. Now I can. So here it is.