Clothing Madness

I found a bag of clothes in the dungeon I call my basement. They were marked "spring clothes" and had been packed away (OK, lost) for some years (probably a decade).

Horrors.

I actually wore these? and liked them? What was I thinking.

Yes, I have had cyclical bouts of mild depression. I've had issues, which I freely admit, with my body and lack of style. But this batch of ...rags does not belong in any one's closet. 

I tried some on, trying to justify why I had chosen them in the first place. Some sturdy white underclothes hit the trash first, then the summer pj's in putrid shades of yellow and yellowed.

I tried on a summer dress that felt like it was made out of used tissue, a polyester pant suit and three pairs of elastic-banded slacks. The collar on one blouse was as wide as a linebacker's shoulders and had a lace trim. Ugh. And they were all too big. I weighed less in some of those years.

I examined each piece before I put it back in the storage place--a Hefty bag. I shuddered to think how I must have appeared to my co-workers, my employees, my friends and, most of all, my husband and sons. My hair, longish, often in a bun or loose ponytail. Sparse make-up. Little jewelry. What was I thinking? I wasn't.

A few years ago it hit me. Even though Hubby told me different (I assumed he was being polite), I knew I was plain. Chubby. Totally unsexy. Miserable with myself and powerless to change (or worse, days when I thought I looked OK).

Today I invest in satin and lace, jewelry that mandates attention, enough make-up to camouflage the flaws. My jeans mostly fit (I didn't have any then), my heels are higher (and comfortable) and I've learned to laugh more. Still chubby, but it doesn't seem to matter anymore. What I have done is changed not just the outer me (Lord knows I needed that), but also the inner me.

I have adult friends who still suffer from shyness or mousiness. Come out. Dance, even if you are alone in your cellar. Sing, even if cats growl at the sound of your song. Ladies, put on a little lace every day. Smile more. Flirt a little (yes, you do know how). 

Most important of all, take an inventory of yourself, Are you what you want to be? Have you done what you wanted to do? Have you any joy in your life, even little things?

Every day I am evolving. I am not who I was. I'm learning to like me. As I write this, I realize that the problem wasn't just clothes madness. That could be remedied. the problem was me.

I'm working on it.