Clothes & Memory
Back to Goodwill today... last_bastion very patiently waited for me while I sorted through no less than two dozen sets of pants looking for those small finds that make one's wardrobe unique. Then we came home... and I cleaned out my closet.
Shirts too big or that I haven't worn in years, and a trip through the pants and slacks that have been hanging out in my closet.
I find it interesting abstractly how hard it is for me to let go of clothing. I'm accustomed to using pants until they fall apart and literally can no longer be warn. The simple act of having to buy new clothes often imbeds itself in my memory... associating points of my life with what I was wearing.
And then there are the sizes... making me blink as I try to rationalize how much smaller I've gotten without really feeling like I've gotten all that much smaller with the clothes that were in my closet.
Size 16 slacks... purchased so I'd have something nice to wear for New Years dinner the night the wait staff flirted with dying for stressing formal_copy out.
Size 12 black skirt... worn to last_bastion's grandfather's wedding.
Size 12 jeans... purchased with a look of shock when all that walking I was doing with formal_copy finally paid off. In the end, when I packed the weight back on, I kept those as my measuring stick for when I'd be 'happy' with my weight.
Size 14 corderoys... purchased when the airline lost our luggage somewhere between Chicago and Denver.
I've kept a few things that were meaningful... the hand patched jeans that I used to pull on at 0'bloody-early in the morning to feed the dogs, that skirt I mentioned above... those jeans that I'd held up as my measuring stick.
I'm keeping a few others, as well... sizes 10 and 11... just in case.
It was just strange going through the closet. And I'm going to have to have to go shopping for some nice clothes again in the near future. *smiles* Maybe I'll see if I can convince formal_copy to do that with me when we head out to Virginia.
Raen.
Shirts too big or that I haven't worn in years, and a trip through the pants and slacks that have been hanging out in my closet.
I find it interesting abstractly how hard it is for me to let go of clothing. I'm accustomed to using pants until they fall apart and literally can no longer be warn. The simple act of having to buy new clothes often imbeds itself in my memory... associating points of my life with what I was wearing.
And then there are the sizes... making me blink as I try to rationalize how much smaller I've gotten without really feeling like I've gotten all that much smaller with the clothes that were in my closet.
Size 16 slacks... purchased so I'd have something nice to wear for New Years dinner the night the wait staff flirted with dying for stressing formal_copy out.
Size 12 black skirt... worn to last_bastion's grandfather's wedding.
Size 12 jeans... purchased with a look of shock when all that walking I was doing with formal_copy finally paid off. In the end, when I packed the weight back on, I kept those as my measuring stick for when I'd be 'happy' with my weight.
Size 14 corderoys... purchased when the airline lost our luggage somewhere between Chicago and Denver.
I've kept a few things that were meaningful... the hand patched jeans that I used to pull on at 0'bloody-early in the morning to feed the dogs, that skirt I mentioned above... those jeans that I'd held up as my measuring stick.
I'm keeping a few others, as well... sizes 10 and 11... just in case.
It was just strange going through the closet. And I'm going to have to have to go shopping for some nice clothes again in the near future. *smiles* Maybe I'll see if I can convince formal_copy to do that with me when we head out to Virginia.
Raen.