I have been keeping clothes in my closet, clothes that I hope to fit into one day, some clothes that I wore when I was younger and thinner (ie, before children), and some clothes that I bought because they almost fit right in the store, but when I got them home, I decided they would look better when I lost weight. They just sit there in the closet, some still with tags, others without. Every now and then, I get the urge to try them on to see if there has been any “improvement” in my body and they fit better. And, inevitably, the clothes fit the same as before—not quite right and clinging in all the wrong places. So, I would body-bash and despair that I would ever find clothes that looked nice. But, I had some nice clothes that did fit my body, hanging in my closet. And, I chose to neglect all those in favor of clothes that didn’t fit. I chose to think that my body was the problem, not the too small clothes.
Anyway, that was the background. Today, I chose to clean out my closet—to rid myself of all the clothes that don’t fit me and my body—waiting, hoping, dreaming that my body might be something different that what it is. That is and has been my biggest fear and it has been really holding me back. So, even though the penny-pincher in me despises it, I have cleaned the clothes out. I am hoping to begin viewing it as giving the perfectly good clothes to charity, rather than as throwing them away.
So, another manta to add to my growing attack force of positive thoughts is “It’s not my body that’s the problem, it’s the clothes.”