My Life in Boxes

I spent a good part of yesterday “Spring cleaning” our master bedroom and study. I’d intended to do more but I got derailed by a lengthy visit down memory lane in the form of five (yes, five) boxes of “for when I’m skinny” clothes.

I figured it would be a quick eyeball of things and I’d be on my way but that was not the case. I opened each box and carefully inspected each item. There had to be close to 100 different items of clothing by the time I was done.

Some of them I’d worn in the past and I ache to wear again.
Some were keepsake items of my previous “before” weights.
Some didn’t fit even back in the day and had tags on them…still waiting to see the light of day.

I often say that I don’t think or care much about clothes. I say that because I find no joy in the shopping experience. My goal is pretty simple – find something that covers me (not “fits”) and in a style/color I don’t hate. But truth be told, I do care. Of course I care. I have pride and vanity and I want to look good. I desperately want to enjoy clothes and clothes shopping.

I want to look soft and pretty when I’m out on a date with my husband, and hot and sexy when we’re behind closed doors. I want to look crisp and professional when at work. I want to look all cute and jaunty when out with the girls. I want to throw open my closet doors and be overwhelmed with options, not relegated to Option 2 of 5. I know I care, I just have locked those feelings away in order to deal with my current situation.

And opening those boxes yesterday opened up those feelings. I was surprised to discover how much I *cared* about the clothes in the boxes.

There was the knit black dress, circa 1990. 🙂 And it still looks great. And when I wore it I was around 200-210, and I thought I looked hot in it. No idea what size it is…because I suck and I cut all the sizes out of my clothes so no one else could see them. Sigh. It’s probably an XL, but clingy. I would wear this out to all the clubs along with a leather blazer. I smile more at the memories vs. the actual dress. And I sigh in regret, too. I was so close to goal back then. If only…

Also from that timeframe was the garnet skirt. Closest thing to a pencil skirt I’ve ever owned and I loved it then, and I loved it again yesterday. It’s probably a size 16. It looks so small.

There was the red sweater with black zipper, circa 2003. A friend who’d lost weight was cleaning out her closet and gifted me with this gem. It was a little snug into it but I was confident that I’d wear it soon. Still want to…still waiting.

Then came the Race Box. The Race Box is filled with t-shirts from various fitness events that I actually participated in. Had to be at least ten of them and the irony is that they’re all in pristine condition – because while I was “fit” enough to partake in the activity, I could not FIT into the commemorative shirt.

Then more recent history. There was the burgundy shirt I wore on my first-ever date with my now-husband. There’s the baby blue and white shirt I wore to a birthday brunch with my girlfriends – incidentaly, one of the best pictures ever taken of all of us. There’s the paint-stained t-shirt I wore when decorating my first-ever home. There were a TON of sleeveless shirts I wore throughout one of the best summers of my life. A silk robe I wished closed a bit tighter. Looking at them all, it’s hard to believe they ever covered my body – they look like they shrunk in the wash, but I know they haven’t.

There were four pairs of jeans. I have never really worn jeans because my shape makes it hard to find good-fitting jeans.

There was a pair of size 22 jeans, another weight-loss friend’s castoff, that I tried for the LONGEST time to get into, and the angels SANG when I finally did. Me! In Jeans! I finally felt normal. No more. There was a pair of size 20 black jeans that *were* to be my next goal. I’m not sure if they’ve ever been unfolded. There are two more recent pairs of jeans, size unknown (yep, tag cut off) that I know I wore the year of my wedding. Don’t fit.

Last, but not least, I found The Magic Dress. The Magic Dress is a size 18/20 black polyester shirtdress with a johnny collar and front zipper. It hits at the knee, is flared, and damn cute. It got the “magic” designation because nearly ANYBODY with ANY BODY TYPE could wear this dress. My girlfriends are all built differently, but it didn’t matter which one of us put the dress on, it worked. It camouflaged flabby tummies and ample hips. It’s been worn to death and still looks Day One fresh. I didn’t have the heart to even try on The Magic Dress yesterday, for fear of tarnishing its reputation. It’s back in the box.

They’re all packed back in their boxes, along with those memories and feelings. Just waiting for me.

I’ll be there soon.