Why is it hard to get rid of clothes when you (make that I) lose weight? I’m not that frugal, so it isn’t the, “Oh my gawd look at the waste!” aspect. I’m not a hoarder – really, honestly, OK, so I have a few textbooks that are 30 years old… I am not keeping any clothes around in anticipation of a regain.
There is nothing I would like more than to see a woman with fewer resources wearing some of my beautiful suits. So, why the heck am I dawdling getting rid of the poundage of clothes in my closets? Yes, closets – plural.
Lazy, perhaps. Overwhelmed at the prospect of cataloging several hefty bags of clothes for a tax deduction, yeah. But deep down, I’m having trouble letting go of my fat. My body image still is nebulous. Viewing pics of me at my fattest (and I will NOT post them here), I can’t believe that’s me. Viewing pics of me in 1992 at a size 6, I can’t believe that is my body. Looking at my sagging skin, I just want to scream it away. I can’t accept that my arms look like my great-grandmother’s or my thighs resemble an elephant, even as some muscle starts to show through. (Hmm, both of those are very strong images…) Do I want to be fat again and smooth out the wrinkles and sags? NO. I wouldn’t mind be 20 years younger though 😉
Rather than continuing to perseverate about the clothes, my fat, this strange sadness when I look in my closets – I am celebrating this Valentine’s Day with a gift to myself and to large women who shop at Goodwill by finishing the task; emptying my closets;screw the cataloging; putting on some happy music. (Live radio from the Big Island for our upcoming vacation) And, some private writing about these reactions to changes in my body.
Happy Valentine’s Day.