Al Green, Weight Loss, & Moving On From What No Longer Serves You

Sometimes it can be tough to part with a piece of clothing I’ve made for myself, especially when I thought I’d happily rock it forevah & evah.
Case in point, this Al Green tunic, which sold yesterday from the shop. I haven’t even shipped it out yet.
It’s good, right?
Look closely. He’s even doing that endearing lip biting thing. Don’t you always envision Al doing the lip biting thing?
I’d love to regale you with some madcap story of how I attended the 1999 show, got hand-plucked from the audience & ended up backstage smoking spliffs with Al as we watched opener Deniece Williams belt out “Free”. And that post-shenanigans I received the shirt as a heart-felt memento from Al himself, aka, my new bestie…

Nah. No such luck. In 1999 I was in youthful hustle mode growing my vintage clothing shop. But classic soul music breathed life into our work mornings & more than a few of Al’s greatest hits made their appearance in the loop of eternally scratched cds that began each day. Sam Cooke always opened, of course. Louis & Ella popped in. Otis came ’round. By the time Al made his daily debut it was in accordance with coffee, customers, intermittent dancing, repeat.

I had never had a chance to see him in concert, tho, & was excited to hear years later that he’d be headlining a local Blues Festival. I even managed to finesse free tickets for me & my dude.
Yes, I dorked it out immediately & completely. Scored a vintage shirt on Ebay. A men’s skimpy XL, which certainly would not have fit my very plus size body.
So we went to work.
Widened & rounded the neckline to fall gently off one shoulder.
Inserted gauzy panels down the sides to provide much needed breathing room with a hint of sexy sheer.
1X became 3. Maybe 4.
Rocked it with some voluminous hippie skirt. Gladiator sandals. Giant hoops. Giant necklace. Wrist full o’ bangles.
Massive jewelry for a massive me.
So ready for Al.

I knew my relationship was over before we ever made it to the show. Before we could leave the house even.
Why?
The tickets were suddenly gone.
How? No, really. HOW?
I had made sure to secure them in a hidden pocket of my purse so there could be no last minute confusion.
Gone.
And my first thought, my very first thought was, “What if he took them?”
Now I could delve deeply into the sea of distrust which surely existed to allow me to have jumped to such a far-fetched conclusion.
Why would he so boldly pilfer tickets to a show he was already attending with me? Who does that?
No matter. Water long under the bridge. Or as Al wrote, “misty memories of days gone by”
Suffice to say, if in that moment your first thought about a man you’ve loved so hard for so long is,
“What if he stole that which would have made me the most happy in this week, this day, this hour?”
What if?
If there is even room for the question, what if, the thing is irretrievably broken.
It was absolutely time to move on.
Which I did.
Not that night.
But soon enough.
Finally.

The tunic, however, remained. In the back of the closet. Face hidden.

I pulled it out a few months ago. Couldn’t resist Al’s bitten lip beckon.

One day you look up and all your clothes are baggin’, saggin’.
At some point the pounds abscond undetected.

What remains is not new you, but yes lawd, improved you.

On the one hand, it is thrilling to meet “weight loss goals” for yourself you never even dared mention aloud.
On the other more pragmatic hand, it takes a lifetime to build a killer wardrobe.
And after dealing in vintage apparel for 25 plus years I gotta admit
some of my shit is one-of-a-kind spectacular.

Which brings us back to this simple Al Green tunic of love.
In the spirit of the adage, “Use it or Release it”, I did.
Sometimes you must move on from what no longer serves you.
I moved on.
So too does the tunic, happily, to a soul music lovin’ big gurl in Granite City, Illinois.