Fat Clothes

Some women have fat jeans and skinny jeans. Some women, me included, have fat wardrobes and, well, less-fat wardrobes. I couldn't possibly say that anything I've worn since 1981 could be classified as "Skinny!"

Tonight I gathered three garbage bags full of clothing I'm taking to a local consignment store. I could give them to the Salvation Army or Good Samaritan, but folks, I'm broke! A few bucks here and there...

Anywho, in gathering these bags of clothes I inspected each for stains, tears and size. I have everything form a size 14 to 24W. Some of the clothes are name brand, some Wal-Mart, and many I purchased from the same consignment store a few years ago. (Yes, I can remember where I get my clothes, even 4 years later. Please reference "Where's the Delete Key.")

As I saw cute shirts, comfy sweaters and swishy skirts, I had a sickening feeling for a couple of reasons. 1.) That's a heck of a lot of money I spent on all those clothes over the years, and some of them I know I only wore once or twice. 2.)Who really needs that many articles of clothing? People in Haiti are lucky to have one good shirt to wear to Church on Sunday. 3.) How the heck did I allow myself to gain all that weight back? (Throughout 2008 I lost about 80 pounds. And now it's back. With interest. Stupid, stupid, stupid.)

I had promised myself earlier this year that I was NOT buying any new clothes until I stopped gaining weight. I refuse to festoon this barge of a body any longer. Now that's not to say that I might get something necessary, like something Green so I can be in a dear friend's wedding in March, or cute boots if I catch them on sale :)

This is the worst time of year for a compulsive eater. As if it wasn't bad enough the rest of the year to stay away from food, the next 2 months are full of holiday dinners, office parties and people stuffing cookies and candy in my direction. At least my office is no longer across the hall from the kitchen at work. All day long I heard folks discussing the qualities of the cookies the copier company sent us, the chocolates the psychiatrist sent us, and the "better than sex" almond toffee the car dealership sent. Althought I really don't think the short walk down the hall will stop me from indulging a bit, I might feel guilty when I pass Kathy's office for the 17th time each morning.