My Closet

I realized I, like so many people, had too many clothes in my closet.  Some people keep clothes because they will “someday” lose enough weight and be able to fit in them. Some people keep clothes because they were really expensive and some people keep clothes for nostalgic reasons.

I have come to realize that in my life I have spent many years wearing clothes that are ill-fitting, buying clothes and returning them, wearing things that were unflattering, things that weren’t made well, things others bought for me, things others picked out for me, shoes that hurt my feet, coats that weren’t warm enough….

Growing up I was dressed in the cutest little, colorful matching shorts and tops, they were made of a fabric called perfection with one stripe the color of “be a good girl so no one gets angry” and the other stripe, the color of If you say, “jump”, I have to ask, “how high”?

When I was in elementary school I wore denim, bell-bottoms made of “I am not smart enough” and corky little platform shoes made of “how you look is the only thing that matters”.

Throughout the years I wore tight fitting jeans from designers named “unpopular” and “you’re not pretty enough”, jumpsuits of “you’re only good for a f*ck”, hats of “you’re not allowed to say no”, different pairs of socks made of “unlovable”, “unworthy” and “stupid”.

I went through a phase of going to different stores to try on clothes made of scratchy fibers including “Laws of Attraction” and being a “Co-Creator with God”.  Some of them were flattering but often cumbersome and bulky and simply not the right fit for me.

I wore running shoes embellished with “accomplishment”, soles of “achievement” and “look at me”.

For a while I was wearing dresses made of “self-pity”,” poor me” and “life sucks” but I gave them up for the most expensive beautiful gown I have ever owned. This gown was luxurious and stunning, made of this exquisite fabric called “Love”, embellished with pearls of “promises” and lace made of “lies and addiction”.

I loved this gown and wore it every day and when the stitching started coming undone I would mend it and when it got dirty I would clean it and kept putting it back on but it got so stained, filthy, torn and tattered until I could no longer repair it. I was screaming, crying broken, anxious and fearful.

I cleaned out my closet and threw out the clothes that didn’t fit me, the clothes that were old, the clothes that were stained, the clothes that were tight, the clothes that were lose until there was nothing in my closet.

I stood there naked fully clothed.