Clothes

Finally, a new post.

Well, I'm taking another batch of clothes to the consignment shop this week. I kind of hate to see them go. Here's the deal.

A little over a year ago I began being sick to my stomach all the time. I had no appetite, and when I did make myself eat something, it just came right back up. Well, this went on for about 3 months. I wasn't pregnant; there was nothing wrong with me physically. I was just fretting and worrying myself into being sick. I ended up losing about 45-50 pounds. This was really a good thing, but the problem was that I had this great wardrobe of clothes that I really liked. However, they were sizes 16 or 18, and I am now a size 8, 6 on a good day. I know, I know, why am I complaining? Because I had resigned myself that I was going to be a certain size for the rest of my life, and I had built up a closet full of clothes in those sizes. Now, I love clothes. I don't get to go shopping as much as I would like, but I love quality clothes. I get sentimental about them. I remember what I did when I was wearing them. I connect them to good things or bad things. It's very strange and unhealthy, I'm sure. So, everytime I take a group of clothes to the consignment shop I hate to see them go. Like the gorgeous red wool Ann Taylor skirt that I only got to wear for one winter that I found for 50% off. Or the beautiful cream-colored suit that I wore for Easter year before last.

Anyway, there's my strange, twisted thoughts on getting rid of my "big" clothes.

Have a good week everyone!