OUT OF THE CLOSET

23 March 2002

A good thing to do when starting a new eating plan (ephemism for "diet") is to make an assessment of all those dusty clothes hanging in the back of your closet to get an idea of what is there. Old friends you haven't seen in years.

When I was preparing to go to Rochester last month, I went looking for some sweaters that I remember putting in a dresser in our junk room. The sweaters weren't there, but in going through that room, I opened a closet and found a whole rack of clothes I moved in there several years ago, having outgrown them, and needing space in my other little closet.

Going through that closet was like a trip down memory lane, each piece representing a time when I was xx pounds thinner than I am now. I look at some clothes and I know exactly how much I weighed when I was wearing them. Unfortunately when I look at my clothes, numbers flash before my eyes.

There is the dress I wore to Gilbert's memorial service, for example (I'm embarrassed to admit that was 17 years ago!). I had lost a significant amount of weight the year before he died and bought the dress (a navy blue dress that I fear got far too much use as funeral attire than I ever intended, as Gilbert's death by heart attack came just before the AIDS epidemic started hitting The Lamplighters. Too many memorial services for awhile there.). At the time of Gilbert's death, the dress was starting to get a little snug again. I remember exactly to the pound how much I weighed the day I wore it to the service.

There's the pair of pants I saved as a "before" demonstration, so that when I'd lost weight, I could try them on and see how far I'd come. I did lose most of the weight that time, though I never quite reached my goal. But I lost 80 lbs and the "before" pants were as impressive as I thought they'd be. (Unfortunately they are too tight for me now.)

There's the wonderful frilly white blouse that I bought at my lowest weight in the last 20 years. By rights, I should have given it away a long time ago, but hope springs eternal and I always hoped I'd be able to fit into it again. That's a long time down the road, and many a lettuce leaf between now and then, but I once again have hope...and determination.

Somewhere in the bottom of a drawer is a set of maroon tailored pants that looked so good with the above mentioned blouse. I despair of ever being able to wear them again, but, as I said before, hope springs eternal.

There is also a whole drawer full of t-shirts and sweat shirts in various forms of X-large (X, XX, XXX). Some of them are starting to fit. By the time the triple digit temps get here, I should have a whole wardrobe of t-shirts that are no longer form-fitting.

I've never been a clothes horse. The only reason I have closets stuffed full of clothes is that when I outgrow something I like, I can't bring myself to throw it away, always hoping that I'll shrink down again and it will fit.

There was a fancy dress I bought before we moved to Davis, I think. I loved that dress and kept it in the back of the closet for years until I finally decided that after 5 children and far too much yo–yo dieting, I was probably never going to be a size 12 again, and gave it to the first charitable organization that dropped a collection bag on our front door.

Through the years, I've given Walt a hard time for keeping clothes that he wore in high school. (It's probably not quite that bad, but pretty close). As I start going through my own closet treasure trove, I realize that I've done the same thing. Probably for different reasons. But the nice thing about holding on to those old things that you liked when you were thinner is that as you lose weight, you already have a wardrobe waiting for you. I guess it's an economical move, in the long run.