For years I carried around close to 100 garments. I carried them from state to state, city to city, house to house, and kept them neatly in whatever closet I called my own. I had sharply tailored dress shirts, a pink and black floral halter dress, khakis, dress slacks, and a plethora of sweaters that came in handy when I lived in the Pacific Northwest, but are useless in Southern California.
The sad thing was that these garments didn't fit, instead they served as a constant reminder of what I needed to get myself back to. I carried on a persistent 20 lbs. battle, all so I could, once again, wear my beautiful clothes. Opening my closet door was like dinner with a nagging relative, as well as, a source of stress. I have two elegant, silk, red blouses and a brand new black jacket that was such a bargain, but I don't fit into them. At times, I would be down a few pounds and run into my closet to try on clothes that had been sitting there for half a decade. Even if it fit, I would walk into the bathroom to look in the mirror and be sorely disappointed, because it just didn't look good on me anymore. Yet, for some reason, I still housed it neatly on a hanger.
Today was the day of reckoning. I was done. When I started eliminating all of the items that didn't fit, I really couldn't believe what I had been hanging onto. I found the black, polka dotted dress that I wore on my honeymoon cruise over 12 years ago, the pair of black pants with the white embroidery that I wore to the first dinner party that Jeff and I went to as an official couple from 13+ years ago, the sweater that I bought to celebrate my first bonus check I received when I worked for a concert promotion company before I met Jeff, which was 15 years ago. Was I really delusional to think I could fit into clothes I wore 15 years ago?
It made me think about why I would schlep all of these garments around over the years. Did I really rest all my hopes on one day getting back to the woman I used to be? When I think about the clothes I wore in my 20s, they were fun and I enjoyed wearing them on my 20 year old body, but I didn't enjoy the insecurity I had in my 20s, the drama that went with falling in and out of relationships, or the "just starting out in the world" wages that I put in 60+ hours per week to earn.
The sexy peek-a-boo shirt that used to highlight my cleavage wouldn't work now. If by some miracle I managed to make it back into that size, the cleavage, sadly, would never look as awesome as it did when I was 31. I liked all of these garments when I wore them, and I liked the ages I was when I wore them, but I like who I am now much better. At 41, I have shed the insecurities. Sure, I'm not the young thing that could pull off that nicely hugging sweater dress, but I am the woman who takes care of her family every day, enjoys a great relationship with her husband of 12 years, and has a level of financial security that she never thought she would ever have.
I did hold onto a few things like the Rammstein windbreaker that was given to me when I worked at PolyGram (my first real job in the music business). I kept the blue shirt I wore the first night I met Jeff face to face, and the shirt I stole from my stepdad's closet. My mother always wanted to throw that shirt out, but he would never let her. He got it his first year of college and held onto it. I grabbed it from him during the '90s when vintage and thrifting were all the rage. He used to be amused at the way I would wear his old college shirt over a white tank top with jeans. Since he has been gone almost five years, I don't feel like parting with his shirt, because it reminds me of him and makes me smile.
I wound up with five bags of trash and seven bags of clothes to donate. I'm happy to send them to a new home. I am also relieved to know that when I walk in my closet, everything will fit me. Now if I could just convince Jeff to part with his old suits, because the only way those are ever going to fit him again is if he starts amputating limbs. Seriously, you're 45, you don't need the suit you wore to college graduation, I don't care what kind of deal you got on it!
