Cleaning a clothes closet can be exhilarating for some and depressing for others. Unfortunately, I have fallen into the latter category and today's culling of extraneous garments from my closet forced me to face one of my biggest failures in life: the inability to the lose weight that has accumulated on my body over the past twenty years. It was twenty years ago that I quit smoking; witnessed a murder; and stopped caring about the extra pounds that were slowly creeping on my once model-thin frame. Too much other stuff was happening - most of it bad. Even a job that I loved did little to slow down the momentum to obesity and now I'm faced with the physical manifestation of years of bad times; bad nutrition (or lack thereof;) bad financial planning; and bad karma.
Fortunately, the worst has passed and I'm on the road to health and happiness, but the pounds still stick to me like duct tape on old sneakers. So, it was with a heavy heart that I opened my closet of lost dreams and started to chuck out the clothes that no longer fit, or the ones bought "on spec" that will never fit - or will go out of style before they do. Goodbye Perry Ellis designer slacks that I loved so dearly when I was a size 14; goodbye Abercrombie and Fitch cargo pants that said XL on the label, that I could not even draw over my fat thighs; goodbye Eddie Bauer shirt that is disgustingly tight; goodbye to all my lady friends: Anne Klein. Liz Claiborne, Gloria Vanderbilt, Donna Karan and even their poorer cousin, Cotton Ginny. They were all well respresented in my failure closet and now they'll go back to where they came from: Value Village, or as some of us call it - the VeeVee Boutique. You don't think I bought these clothes at full retail price, did you? I may be fat, but I'm not stupid. Besides, even if I had the money, I would not venture into a regular store and buy designer duds in my present size 18.
Back when I was a very slim size 5 and making good money, I was a shopoholic and regularly scoured the boutiques and high end stores in Buffalo. Oh, the clothes I had then! Nothing less than major designers graced my thin frame. My hair was done by the top stylist in town; shoes were made from Italian leather; top of the line make-up and perfume - I even had my nails done. Hard to believe. Yeah, and I tooling around in a 1961 dark red Corvette (with two roofs) as well. Good times.
So, a look at my present size and clothing options brings back painful memories and feelings of abject failure, but it also brings stirrings of hope and promise. Here's something I can fix! I know how to do it! Of all the things that I rail against, this is one that I can actually change without having to convince anyone but myself that it needs changing. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I'll keep those Perry Ellis slacks after all.
