“I Dressed Up Just to Take Out the Trash (And It Changed My Life a Little)”

There I was—standing by the front door in a full black jumpsuit, lipstick red as rebellion, and earrings so shiny they could signal aliens.

And I was holding a trash bag.

“Are you… going somewhere?” my neighbor asked, cautiously eyeing me from across the hall.

“No,” I smiled. “Just taking out the trash.”

She blinked. “You look… incredible.”

“I know,” I said, tossing the bag over my shoulder like a glamorous raccoon. “Sometimes, you have to take the garbage out like a queen.”

Let me back up.

It started one Thursday evening. I was knee-deep in a funk. You know the kind—where everything feels sticky and tired and grey. Where even putting on pants feels like a betrayal of your personal rights. I'd been in pajamas for two days straight. My hair was doing a thing best described as “rebellious bird’s nest,” and the only spark in my life came from accidentally microwaving foil.

And then I saw it. The trash. Overflowing. Judging me.

I sighed, peeled myself off the couch, and had this ridiculous, unhinged thought: What if I dressed up? Just for this. Just to take out the trash. What if I made a moment out of a mess?

So I did.

I put on my favorite outfit—the one I usually reserve for special occasions like weddings or Wednesdays when I feel emotionally stable. I brushed my hair, dabbed on some perfume that had been collecting dust, and applied red lipstick with the focus of someone defusing a bomb.

I looked in the mirror and felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks: alive.

And that’s how I ended up dramatically tossing banana peels and empty cereal boxes while dressed like a jazz singer in a noir film.

Here’s the funny part: it worked.

That single, silly act flipped a switch. I felt powerful. Playful. Present. It reminded me that sometimes, joy isn’t in the big things—it’s in the dumb, spontaneous, slightly unhinged decisions you make when life feels stale.

Dressing up to take out the trash became a bit of a tradition for me. Not every time, but when I need it. When the world feels heavy and I’m stuck in the Groundhog Day loop of adulting.

There’s something magical about deciding that you, and your ordinary moments, are worth celebrating.

Society tells us to save the good dishes for guests.

The nice clothes for events.

The expensive lotion for… I don’t know, some skincare emergency?

But here’s my very warm, very unqualified advice: Stop waiting for an occasion. You are the occasion.

Wear the glittery socks to buy bread.

Put on eyeliner for your Zoom call with yourself.

Dance in your hallway in heels that make absolutely no sense.

Why?

Because joy doesn’t always arrive in big, sweeping gestures. Sometimes, it sneaks in when you’re dragging a trash bag in leopard print and feeling like Beyoncé.

Since that first trash-chic incident, I’ve had some of the most fun doing the most mundane things.

I wore a velvet dress to do dishes.

I put on gold hoop earrings to organize my sock drawer.

I once vacuumed the entire apartment in a feather boa. My cat looked concerned, but I felt amazing.

And no, it didn’t fix everything.

Life was still life—messy, unpredictable, loud.

But I was suddenly part of it, not just a spectator in sweatpants.

It was like I was saying to the universe: “I may be tired, but I still sparkle, darn it.”

Here’s the heart of it:

We’re constantly postponing joy.

Waiting for the right moment.

Waiting to be thinner, richer, calmer, better.

But what if we stopped waiting?

What if taking out the trash became a runway?

What if folding laundry became a performance?

What if every small task was a chance to remind yourself that you’re allowed to feel radiant—even in the middle of the mess?

I promise, the world won’t implode if you wear sequins while scrubbing your toilet.

In fact, it might thank you for the glitter.

So here’s your permission slip, dear reader:

You don’t need a reason.

You don’t need a plan.

You just need to open your drawer, pull out something fabulous, and make your own moment.

Because sometimes, the best way to take out the trash… is to take yourself out with it—dressed like the main character you absolutely are.