Lessons from My Closet

Something about our annual garage sale transforms me from "mild-mannered-I didn't even notice that four-foot pile of toys in the den mom" to "if it's not nailed to the floor it must go wild woman." This odd pre-sale ritual does not exclude my own closet, either. This year, though, my closet cleaning did lead to a bit of self-discovery.

Some of my discoveries were the rather mundane, "Gee, I REALLY love cardigans." Perhaps, it's their versatility. Short-sleeved, mid-sleeved, long-sleeved, they finish any outfit with grace, but who needs over-20? Yes, there are over 20 because when I stopped counting at 20 there were more still hanging in the closet. Ahh, but who doesn't love a cardigan? There's something very neighborly about them.

I also have some odd, "maybe it's time to call the producers of Hoarders" obsession with 3/4 length sleeve boat neck t-shirts. I think I figured this one out, though. I don't have to worry about frightening anyone when I bend over to pick up my toddler at the library when he says, "Hold you, mama." Everything is nicely covered, and they are quite flattering. They, like cardigans, tend to be my fashion security blanket.

As I dig deeper into my closet, I also began to dig a little deeper into my personality. For instance, I have a shirt I bought early in my relationship with my husband. I don't wear it anymore, but each time its number is called for inspection on closet-cleaning day, I can't seem to toss it in the garage sale pile. Is it an odd memento of a younger, freer couple who stood at the threshold of the unknown, excited about our future together? This time, I pull it carefully off the hanger, try it on, realize I'll never be able to wear it again, and think, "It's only a shirt." As it lands on the ever-growing pile of clothing, I don't feel the usual tinge of guilt. After all, my son just kicked his big sister, so that takes away a bit from the reverie.

After I get A and C a snack and allow them to play in the pile of discards, I return to my trip down memory lane and find a few items I've had since high school. Upon discovering these, I briefly think about scheduling an appointment with a counselor. Surely there is some deep meaning here. But, I can still wear them, or at least I will be able to after I lose five pounds. I realize, though, that my weight is just about the same as it was in high school. Hmm...could it be that no matter how much weight I lose, or how many miles I run, that the reality is giving birth to two amazing children has changed my body, and it will never be the same as it was in high school? That, somehow my torso is even longer than it was pre-pregnancy, and that many shirts couldn't have just shrunk in the wash. Would I want my body to be the same, though? I am stronger and fitter than I ever was then, so I again contemplate letting go....of everything except.....oh, after all, it's just clothes....and I still have to decide how many red cardigans I really need.