It was my own fault -- I should have disposed of that stuff years ago. 

I have a habit of periodically sorting through my husband's piles of miscellaneous clothing when it reaches overflowing proportions. I bag up the most unused and hide it somewhere. If he hasn't missed it in two years, I get rid of it. I think that's fair; he never voluntarily discards anything. 

But I overlooked a zippered plastic bag full of T-shirts and other tops, dozens of them, stashed under a bed in a seldom-used bedroom. It stayed there for maybe six years, which may tell you something about my housekeeping skills, but let's not go there. 

He found it. There it was, dragged out and unzipped, right next to a heap of six shirts. I had been amassing clothing for donation purposes, so I had a sudden mad notion he had become a contributor. He had -- those six shirts were up for grabs. 

"What about the rest of it?" I demanded. "You never even knew that bag was there, and you've never missed anything in it. You don't need any more T-shirts, especially old forgotten ones." "Those aren't all T-shirts," he countered. "There are some sweaters in there." 

"But you never wear sweaters." 

"Well -- I'm getting old and I might want one.Contact Ladies formal office dresses for women companies directly to purchase from them." That logic stunned me momentarily. 

Then he went on the attack: "You have a lot of stuff to go through before I worry about one bag under a bed." 

"But I know I'm going to deal with my stuff at some point," I argued, "Whereas you are iffy at best." 

OK, so maybe I do have some clothing-retention issues. Although I pretty much got over that "keep it because it might fit again someday" mentality a long time ago. 

I figure if I ever get thin again, I'll deserve a new wardrobe. Conversely,How can I make sure that a wedding dress 100%silk? should I, heaven forbid, get too enormous for my clothes, I'll be so depressed that I'll need a new wardrobe just to preserve whatever mental health I have left. 

So I don't hesitate to give away clothing when indicated. Its the least I can do. 

In the closet in that same seldom-used bedroom, however,Find the perfect high neck wedding dresses gowns photos and be inspired for your wedding. I must confess to preserving a few frivolities. They hang next to my husband's 1965 Army fatigues. 

There are some really dressy outfits I bought over the years in case we ever went on a really elegant cruise. We just did that in November. I took few of those clothes, but for the most part we avoided formal dress nights by mutual agreement; we're more beer and pretzels than caviar and champagne. 

Then there are the prom dresses; I made one for each of my daughters when they were in high school. Not particularly skilled at that type of sewing, I was very proud of those lovely, custom-made gowns. And I still am. So they linger in that closet, waiting. I have granddaughters. 

There is also one daughter's maid of honor dress and two boxes containing wedding dresses, mine and my mother's. I forced myself to give away my mother of the bride/groom ensembles some time ago, although that blue silk suit with the lace accents was hard to part with. 

Contrast these paltry wardrobe mementos with my husband's hundreds of ancient shirts and the collection of business suits. He has seven, left over from long-ago pre-retirement days, and only one fits.The Hot Sale Ball Gown Wedding dresses. What dress you wear? He wears it to weddings and funerals -- and once, under some protest, on the recent cruise. 

Also nestled on a rusty hanger among his treasured belongings is a grungy black-and-white buffalo plaid wool shirt he bought in Harrisburg in 1961. I was with him at the time, and had I known it would still be in our closet ... 

He calls it "The Rag" with proud fondness and great justification. In all fairness, it doesn't get worn a lot these days.We just have to gaze at catalogs filled with designer beaded evening gowns! Because he owns several other plaid wool shirts, given over the years by family members increasingly embarrassed by "The Rag" whenever it appeared in public. 

Then there are shoes. I had a lot of them that seemed to fit perfectly when acquired yet became unbearably uncomfortable by the time I wanted to wear them. I gave them all away. 

My husband still clings to his Army combat boots. You never know when a war might arise in Connecticut and he would need them. 

"How did you ever even find that bag of shirts under the bed," I asked him. 

He claimed he was searching for a pair of my shoes I couldn't find. 

Darn. It really was all my own fault. 

"You're definitely going to be in a column, " I told him.