You can’t wear purple pants forever.
By: Mitzi Campbell
Tags: Growth Mindset, Growing Up, Coming Of Age, New Beginnings, Friendship

Once I had these purple corduroy pants. Dark purple. They were soft and comfy and, at the time, purple was my favorite color, but only, I think, because It was Donnie Osmond’s favorite color. Naturally, I loved these pants, because, as a small child, my fashion criteria, completely subconscious or perhaps intuitive and in no particular order was: a.) Is it soft? b.) Can I chase boys around in it? c.) Does this color make me feel happy? (Clarification: The chasing of boys had nothing to do with actually liking them and everything to do with dominating them by outrunning, out-bobbing and out-weaving them in an effort to ultimately “tag” one or all of them just to demonstrate that a.) I could and b.) Agility is always superior to skinned knees which was an occupational hazard on a playground entirely paved with blacktop, or as Pop Pop used to say, “macadam.”) I wanted to wear the purple corduroys every day. I’m sure I had other pants, garanimals and such, but I only recall the purple corduroys. And my mom did let me wear them almost every day; she also let me rearrange the living room furniture whenever I felt like it. I like to believe this was because she wisely knew it would contribute positively to my development and it has, but it is entirely possible that she just chose her battles with prudence, a skill that I continually work to cultivate to this day. That regular juggling of chairs, end tables and tchotchkes is probably the impetus of my love for decorating, albeit with a telephone cable wheel table and a Good Will nifty thrifty green scratchy couch. Anyway, I don’t remember exactly when it happened but I know it did happen, that one day I could no longer wear the purple corduroys. Physically. They simply did not fit. I know I did not wear them out. They were quite durable. Come to think of it, my mom may have made them herself. I will imagine she did. She made a lot of my clothes by hand and I like remembering that. But anyway again, I outgrew them. The pants. I’m sure It didn’t happen all at once. I’m sure that there were signs I didn’t want to see. I made them fit, jamming my legs and tummy inside the holes on the smooth side of the corduroy day after day even though it didn’t feel good. I wanted them to fit forever. But they didn’t. At some point, I must have come to grips with that. At some point, I just realized it wasn’t comfortable trying to make something fit that did not fit anymore. Not soft. Looking back, that was when I learned that one hard lesson. When we grow, some things don’t fit us anymore. It might take us a while to notice or it might happen all at once. It might hurt. Knowing we can’t go back to wearing purple corduroys anymore. I really missed my pants. I wanted to still wear them. I thought I would never love another pair of corduroys the same. That other pants would not be as good. That I might not be able to feel happy without them. It can be scary to try to find new pants. You might actually walk around with no pants at all for a time. But, it’s not something you can stop from happening. All you can do is keep the faith of a little child. The universe will not leave you pantsless.

It’s nature’s way of letting you know you’re bigger.