So I’ve cleaned out my closet and only keep what I actively wear or can squeeze into (not counting sweaters). It’s Sunday and I think I have enough to get through Thursday.
I think if most of us cleaned out our closets on a regular basis, we’d realize how little we actually wear. We hold onto things for when we’re able to fit back into them, but as I write this I see my Budda belly hanging way over the ribbon of my draw-string pajama pants and know that I most likely will never fit into 70% of the clothes that I’ve been holding onto. I’ve given up the dream of being able to fit into my size 4 black linen Banana Republic pants. Wearing my size six jeans with holes in the crotch are only a fantasy. And really, it’s time to let the faded black — but now blackish — name brand tops go.
We can only move on and improve things once we start from scratch and admit what we have. I now know that I have a shopping spree to save for, meaning I’ll have to resume to a peanut butter jelly/roman noodles diet for a while, but it will all be worth it when I’m walking around in style, which for me means clothes that actually fit — no muffin top and walking around in bright colored tops before they become a sorry, faded version of themselves.
Oh, how I love/hate clothes. Next week I’ll clean out my lingerie drawer, which means I’ll probably be going commando for awhile.