I've been doing a little personal introspection and some closet cleaning this week (what with the Cutest Shoes and Co. taking up residence and all).
I've hidden myself a lot. Oh, I know that sounds pretty incredible, me saying something like that right here, on a blog, in front of the world and the dog next door (I'm pretty certain that poodle surfs porn, though) but it's true. I've concealed myself in fat, in baggy clothes, in dark colors, in my house -- I've hidden in a lot of ways. It all goes back to the Great Depression but the pattern existed before then.
Anyway, I have several people's closets in mine. I've got all these cute, sassy clothes with short skirts and bright colors from those few times when I felt pretty good about myself. And I've got a lot of dark, somber, shapeless, conservative things that made me look like wallpaper or well upholstered furniture. I've got more average clothes, too, and some very dressy stuff. The fits vary, of course, but not so very much -- there are three items that I know will not at this moment fit, and I'm keeping them because, dammit, one day they WILL fit. Besides, red suede mini skirts are not tossed to Good Will lightly.
For the first time in my life, I am exercising regularly. I won't go so far as to say I enjoy using the weights (I like my stretching routine, though) but I feel the difference when I don't go. I can also see subtle changes in my body which I like. I'm still a big girl -- oh yes I am -- but I can see ME under the fat. The fat is camoflauge and I'm trying to get out of hiding. I can see the shapes of my muscles and I can feel them. I get this sense of pride when I can lift or move things by myself. My back doesn't hurt as often. High heel shoes are no longer instruments of torture (well, as long as I don't have to walk or stand in them for a long time).
No, I'm not dropping a lot of weight. I'm having trouble with the food third of the equation. I've got portion control pretty well down, and I'm making better choices on average, but I'm having trouble keeping things nutritionally balanced because, face it, I'm lazy and I don't like to cook for myself. The Husband has an irregular schedule so even though I'm perfectly willing to make dinner every night, it isn't always a do-able thing. So I'm not dropping a lot of weight.
I am shrinking, though. It's very strange. I feel like I am whittling away at all the stuff that is not me to find me underneath. Isn't that an odd thought?
So, back to the clothes. Stuff I was perfectly content to wear last month is now really annoying me. I don't like it and I don't want to wear it. I haven't dumped ALL of it yet, but I'm pulling out the worst. Like the dress I wore today, which is going in the giveaway box tonight. I've had it for about 5 years and I've worn it to work many times. It's a simple column, a sleeveless tank style with a little short sleeved jacket, in a crinkly, solid, dark plum fabric. I pulled it out last night and suddenly it wasn't just a work dress. It was a Grandma Goin' t' Church dress. All it needed was a hat and orthopedic oxfords.
The Husband, who wasn't quite up to speed with me, kept saying "Oh, you look fine in it. It's a conservative dress, but it isn't bad."
"It's Grandma's dress."
"It's not quite Republican. Sort of Republican Lite."
"I don't want to dress like a 20 year old, but, damn, I can manage 35. This is 70."
"It's not that bad. It's just plain and...conservative."
It's going in the box.
I guess this is what happens when one's inner Princess comes out for spring. Everything has to bloom. I think I can manage without the tiara, though. I'm not much for tiaras. No Outer Princess.