I once had the luxury of being able to buy clothing and have it fit me until I tired of it. Imagine that. But then I got a little older, had three kids, and started taking medication to treat my depression. My weight began to fluctuate, and my closet became somewhat of a war zone.
I’ve been so stressed over the “departments” of clothing that make up my closet: the “skinny” options, average-sized choices, maternity clothing, and of course, those outfits for when I’ve packed on a few pounds. Not only has this segmented clothing weighed down my closet, it’s weighed me down mentally. I’ve started to dread choosing an outfit for the day.
I don’t want my happiness to depend on which clothes I am reaching for, especially since the time of my life when I was a size 2 was not the happiest. I was depressed and trying to find the right medication. People would comment about my weight loss as if I had accomplished something amazing when the opposite was true — I was defeated; trying to cope with an illness I had been in denial about. Their comments — intended to serve as compliments — only caused me anxiety, knowing I would likely put the weight back on and somehow be “less than” I was at that moment.
Even still, I bought the most clothes when I was at my smallest. And as suspected, my weight changed. Soon, I was heading over to my husband’s side of the closet to wear his big comfy t-shirts that made me feel small no matter what size I was currently at. I envied his baggy nylon pants and loose fitting tops. Getting dressed is so simple and easy for him. He wears comfortable, practical clothing and doesn’t have to notice if he’s gained an inch of weight here or there.
So, I recently decided to take back control. I purged clothes that will likely never fit me again to embrace where I am at now.
The clothes from the junior’s department? Gone. I’m ready to welcome pieces that feel like me — a busy mom of three who needs comfort, functionality, and maybe even a unique sense of style.
Clothing can be a fun way to express myself, but it doesn’t define who I am. Getting rid of clothing I’m not likely to wear again has been liberating. It has allowed me to focus on what really matters, and it’s not the size of my jeans. My body has changed and that’s OK! It doesn’t mean I can’t feel good about myself just because I can’t dress the same way I did in my twenties (honestly, who can?).
After this massive outfit purge, I’ve found that I’m more comfortable with my own sense of style then I’ve ever been before.
Now my closet can represent me instead of dictating my mood for the day. I can pick pieces of clothing that make me happy, comfortable, and allow me to chase my 2-year-old around without fear of exposing my underwear.
I’m so much more than the size on my label, and sometimes it just takes a little spring cleaning to remember that.