I plan to be a diva someday . . . - The Great Closet Clean-out

The interesting thing about going through one's closet, after one has lost some weight is that it is like going back in a time machine, to the person you were last time you wore that size.

And I, for one, am wondering who the heck that person was:

1.  She had no jeans that really fit, but she did have six or seven pairs of patterned pants for everyday wear, including 2 pairs of blue and white floral pants.

2.  She had not one, but two, green coat dresses -- one houndstooth, one solid kelly green.

3.  She had at least 6 pairs of black pants, and at least 8 black sweaters (Note to self:  Never buy a black sweater again).

4.  She also owned 8 turtlenecks, even though she lives in MIAMI, and 3 of those are also black. 

5.  Most of her clothing could be classified as "cute."

6.  Her shoes need some serious work (I hate to shop for shoes).  Man has yet to invent the shoe rack that would keep her shoes in order.

7.  She owns 2 Western shirts (embroidered with cowboy patterns) which she has saved all these years for the sole purpose of attending the annual "hoe-down" at her daughters' elementary school.  Meredith has 3 more years there, so the shirts stay.

I was reading an article about a psychologist who made her patients get rid of 50 items as a way of changing their lives, letting go of the old and bringing in the new.  I'm afraid I only got rid of 16 items yesterday, which is not as good as I thought it would be, but if I lose more weight, I'll throw out more.

I took some of the old stuff to the consignment shop.  Going to the consignment shop is a frustrating experience because you get to hear about how stuff that you've been wearing all along isn't good enough for anyone else to want to wear.  For example, a Ralph Lauren evening gown I've worn twice is unsaleable because of a small ding in the velvet skirt, about halfway down by the knees.   I like the kids' consignment shop better because they just take your bag and do the inspection outside your presence, donating the rejects to charity, so you only know about the items they took, and you don't feel like your life is being examined and deemed inadequate.  If you subtract the stuff the consignment store lady refused, I only got rid of 12 items, but I still have the rejects in the trunk of my car to go to Goodwill.   I'm pretty sure Goodwill can sell the evening gown.

I don't understand people who can bring their shoes to the consignment store.  I wear my shoes until they're dead.

Here's something interesting.  Last year, I bought a pair of ski pants off E-bay.  Because I was buying the pants from E-Bay, I bought one size larger than my usual size, just in case.  When the pants showed up, they didn't fit, but I told myself if I just lost a few pounds, they would.  I ended up getting really frustrated (Starting a diet during Christmas season = impossible) and buying another pair at Sports Authority.

Now, the pants fit.  The number of pounds I needed to lose to get these pants to fit was 27.  They are 2-3 sizes larger than the size I currently wear.  I have no plans to go skiing in the near future.

I still own the outfit I wore the first time I visited my editor at HarperCollins, and it fits.  I saw a photo of myself in it, and I actually look very washed-out (It's beige), but I'm keeping it anyway, for sentimental reasons, even though I'm pretty sure that's what that psychologist was talking about not doing.

Otoh, I am following Dr. Phil's diet advice and tossing out the stuff that's too big -- at least if it's a lot too big. 

Current Mood: contemplative