One of the hardest things to accept about weight gain is not fitting into your favorite clothes any longer. That perfect pair of jeans (my Calvin Klein dark wash). That sexy dress. When these things don’t fit anymore, it’s the most rude wake up call a woman can experience. We attach ourselves to our clothes emotionally. Because they aren’t just clothes. There are memories we associate with those clothes. That’s why our closets get out of control and extremely dated.
On Sunday, I spent my morning cleaning out my closet. The weather is nice. It was a good day to bring my summer clothes up from the basement and banish my sweaters for the coming months. Some stuff stayed from last summer, but not much made the trip back downstairs. I managed to fill an entire garbage bag with clothes that I can’t stay emotionally hung up on. They don’t fit. And even if and when they do fit again, how long has it been since I wore those things anyway? They’re not even in style.
But then there was this…
My favorite silk cami ever from Express. I bought it in 2005. Yeah. It’s an oldie but a goodie. I wore it out for a friend’s birthday and it honestly was one of the best nights I’ve ever had out with friends. It was my first official date with a new boyfriend that night. There was a lot going on and when I put it on, the reaction I got was way more than I had ever experienced. I had felt sexy for the first time in my adult life. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore.
But life got busy and crazy and I gained a bit of weight. Then when I had gone on LA Weightloss, this shirt resurfaced. I still remember the day fresh in my mind. I was having dinner with my ex and his boss. We went to some Mexican restaurant and I managed to make it through an entire meal without eating chips. I had just lost 15 pounds and the shirt looked better this time around than it had the first time. That day was a huge deal for me.
35 pounds down later I found out I was expecting a baby. Surprise! The following summer, I was able to get into this shirt again. I wore it out with my sorority sisters for our annual summer get together. It wasn’t as roomie as it had been, but it still fit comfortably.
I could never get rid of this shirt. Getting back into it would be the ultimate deal for me. It seems to be my go-to, my security blanket when I need a pick me up. It helps me reward myself for hard work.
I laid it out on my bed and just stared at it. There were empty hangers and piles of clothes litering my bedroom floor at my feet, all ready to be stuffed in a bag and sent to the Good Will. But how do I say goodbye to this shirt? Not just any shirt. THE shirt. The shirt that tells me I’m at a point where I feel comfortable in my own skin? The shirt that makes me feel confident and unstoppable?
I folded it up and put it in the bag. I gave it one last look before I piled more clothes on top of it.
To everyone reading, it’s just a pink silk cami with orange lace, beading, and sequins. But for me, that shirt is a symbol of everything I was and everything I thought I wanted to be again. Maybe that shirt is holding me back though. Maybe I don’t need it.
It’s important for me to celebrate small victories as I try to get myself healthy and get this weight off. Today I got on the scale and it was 2 pounds less. Oh yeah, the other day I finally stepped on a scale. It was terrifying and I wasn’t at all happy with the number glaring back at me. It was down right freaking depressing. However, seeing a lower number today made it all worth it.
I shouldn’t be celebrating my past as a victory for things to come. When I reach a good milestone, I should be celebrating by doing something for myself or buying myself something new. I’m not that same person. This is me moving forward and becoming a better version of myself and improving my health.
I haven’t had a chance to drop that bag off yet. It is sitting next to me, and as much as I want to untie the knot and drag my beloved shirt out, it’s time for someone else to make a memory with it.