I’m a bit late posting this morning, on account of the fact that my ass was dragging when I got into bed last night…sorry about that. I remember propping myself up on my pillows and balancing my Macbook on my lap like I always do when I’m getting ready to talk to you, but somehow things get a bit hazy after that point, right up until I woke up with a crick in my neck at about 4am. Muppet.
So, the post went unwritten, and I grabbed another couple of horizontal hours before scooting down to the Kingdom of Pain for my hour of torture and then coming home to eat beef stew for breakfast. I know, but in my defence there were the same number of points in the leftovers from last night’s supper as there would have been in poached eggs on toast and I’ve got to say for an impulse food choice it’s up there with the most enjoyed ever. Nom 🙂
So much for my lazy week off, it’s been hard work, due to my determination to sort all these clothes out. I spent half the day on Wednesday at it and all day yesterday – you might have seen the chaos if you follow the Facebook page- and although I’ve broken the back of it I’m probably looking at another full day today. Fuck’s sake, my storage locker is starting to take on mythical qualities, because despite carrying a steady stream of stuff out it doesn’t seem to be getting any less full, and I’m starting to suspect someone keeps bunging more stuff in it when I’m not looking.
I rent the storage locker because my little cottage has barely any storage space at all, so you know when you need somewhere to store random stuff like Christmas decorations and decorating equipment…the kind of things you don’t need very often? I do need additional space and it’s cheaper than selling up and buying a bigger house. Except over the years it seems to have been taken over by clothes. And you know what, as I’ve been going through them I’ve come to the realisation that I’m not right in the head. Nobody needs that many clothes.
On some level I get it, you know? Last time I reached the hallowed territory of size 12 – or 8 to my friends Stateside – I went wild with clothes shopping, and to be fair after losing a ton of weight I felt like I deserved it. Except I only stayed there long enough to smell the fucking roses and before I’d had chance to get settled in I started filling out my pants again, and then some.
Looking at the stuff I’m surrounded by as I write this, I can’t help thinking that maybe I was filling the void previously occupied with food by buying all this stuff? I mean, every skinny girl needs a pair of linen pants for the summer, right? I’m not sure she needs a pair in every fucking colour of the rainbow with several tops to match each one. Much less strappy tops which look gorgeous on anybody else’s body but never on mine because I don’t get my arms out for anyone.
For some reason which baffles me now, I’ve bought stuff I’d never wear in a month of Sundays, because being a skinny string bean still doesn’t unlock the door that stands between you and being able to wear anything ‘just because you love it’. It has to flatter the residual effects of all the time served in a very fat body and trust me when I say that in my case, that does not include strappy tops. The sight of that would scare children and small animals.
So I’m still plugging away. I’ve now got piles and piles of size 12/14/16/18/20/22/24/26/28 clothes to put on eBay. A lot of the smaller stuff hasn’t ever been worn for all the reasons I just talked about. I’m also looking at stuff through the lens of being the wrong side of fifty now, in particular the length of skirts and the depth of necklines. I mean I don’t mind being a rebel and I’m not particularly conventional anyway, but I don’t want to look like skinny mutton dressed as lamb, you know? *Shudders at the thought*.
I’ve got similar piles of stuff to keep in 18/16/14/12 and they’re all bagged up in sizes, so it’ll be easier going forward, I can just sell on the things that get too big, and go bring home the next size down. I’ve probably got another 4 big bags of stuff to bring home and sort out, and then I can take all the stuff I’m keeping back to the lock-up, and I’ll know exactly where to put my hands on it when I need it.
Yesterday, I sat and cursed the fact that I’d even started this…today I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m going to crack on and finish the job. It’s a bit like this whole journey when I think about it…daunting at first and feeling like I’ll never make any inroads much less finish the task but with the right amount of effort things always start to take shape, right?