For years upon years I have held onto the same clothes. Some of them fit, some of them don’t. I feel bad letting go of the ones that do fit that I just don’t like because I could wear them, I feel bad letting go of the ones that don’t fit because I should be thinner.

A few weeks ago I decided that was enough. I started sorting. I got rid of two trash bags of clothes, dumped at Salvation Army on Friday. Amy was over this weekend and we did another run through, this time adding shoes to the pile. Amy was kind, but in a brutal kind of way. I tried everything on to a simple response of  “no” or “yes.” I knew there was little room to argue. When asked why it had to go she would add “camel toe” or “speed bump” (referring to my generous second stomach roll). The reality is that everything she said no to I don’t feel good in. She just helped me name it. I have three more bags to let go of this coming week. It feels good to look in my drawers and know that everything in there makes me feel attractive. It does feel good to be a little bit lighter, to open space for new things into my life that make me feel good about my body, not guilty. At one point Amy stated: “you have really nice clothes, how come I never see them?” This is my question exactly. Why do I not wear them?

Now, if only I could let go of all those other things that I have been holding onto that don’t fit me too well, you know those old habits and voices and scripts. That will have to wait until next weekend.

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