Forever Clothes

When you adopt a pet from a shelter or rescue, it is often said that you are giving them their "forever home".

Well, I realized on Saturday as I spent the day shopping with my mother, that I am close enough to my goal weight that I am now buying "forever clothes" (badumdumchh). Aside from pants, things that I get now are going to fit pretty much forever...you know, ideally. This. Is. Exciting.

For months, I've lived in this strange limbo state of in-between-ness, buying things I know I'll shrink out of in a matter of weeks, or drowning in things I used to love. It's hard enough to feel fully comfortable in your skin when you're losing weight, and harder still when you're constantly pulling unfamiliar fabric up or down, not sure what now looks bad, or good, or wondering just how fat you still are.

If you haven't noticed from my outfit posts and general shallowness, I really really love fashion. I always have, but have never really felt like I had the "right" to wear what I wanted to wear at my size, or it really just looked terrible on me, or I felt too noticeable, looked like I was trying too hard, or WAH WAH WAH. Priority #1 was always camouflage and concealment, then I could try to wear something at least halfway cute. I did okay, I think? Color and print and lace and frills, feminine with a funky edge. Always layers, lots of dresses, cardigans always necessary to cover my arms.

Over my adult life I have amassed a lot of clothes. A very large amount. Huge quantities. A shitload, okay?  Some items I haven't worn in years, and some I recently wore at least once a week. Yesterday, armed with a little bit of confidence after fitting into a pair of sixes while shopping (though I didn't buy them), I went through my closet and started the kind of emotional process of sorting. Keep, donate, sell (or, attempt to).

Don't judge my pain. First of all, I'm a pack-rat, and it's hard for me to convince myself to get rid of anything, clothes especially, even when they're way too big. I have really strong memories attached to certain dresses or outfits, and I always think, well, I could maybe get them altered? Plus, my paranoid little mind kicks into overdrive: I can clearly imagine some day in the future when I'm standing at my closet, and the perfect thing to wear is something that I stupidly gave away. UPSETTING.

Obviously, I got over it.

Just a portion of the discards, including
a homecoming dress from high school,
my college graduation dress,
my last suitable interview shirts,
 and three of my former favorite dresses.

Let's just say I used to have to hunt for a hanger.
And some of these are still
too big
not right
too special to get rid of.

It's kind of cathartic to get rid of years of memories like this, almost like I'm shedding my old skin. It's freeing to be without my uniforms, my armor, starting afresh as a mostly different person.

And now it's time to shop.