I am one of those people who packs away favorite clothing items that are two sizes too small in hopes they will one day fit again. In fact, before we had so many children, half of Daniel’s dresser was designated to old jeans and tops that I swore I would get into again one day.
*My husband and I pre-children… and pre-digital cameras with red eye remover.
I felt like keeping these favorites around would motivate me to eat better, or maybe spend a few minutes on myself by commencing in some sort of exercise.
After 3 of our 4 boys were born, my much older, slightly smaller clothes went from their dresser and into a box hidden in my closet — up until recently.
We sold our house. It was on the market since late last fall. Secretly, I was grateful that we have been able to stay this extra bit of time. Then one day we got a great offer, an offer we couldn’t refuse. And now it’s time to move.
Anyway, with only about five weeks until closing day I have been going through seven years of memories and purging junk I thought mattered. This eventually brought me to my heaps of old clothing.
I generally follow one anti-hoarding rule — if I haven’t used it in six months, it’s gone. I rifled through my old clothes debating on whether this specific case fit into my guidelines, or if I should make an exception. I negotiated with myself deciding that I should try on my old clothes and I could keep anything I thought I would/could wear in the next few months.
The experience was laughable. Everything about it was wrong, not only the fact that the clothes were comically small, they were all things I would never wear anyway: jeans with strategically placed tears that I probably paid extra for, insanely loud tank tops, and a shirt saying “kiss me, I’m Irish,” which I am most definitely not. Why had I been holding on to these things for years? Did I think I needed them to remember who I was before marriage and children?
Finally, I was ready to let them all go. After years, I am finally okay closing the door to who I used to be. I am okay with the person I am and am becoming. And I am okay with knowing my post-baby body will never be what it used to be.
After four consecutive c-sections a large scar segments my body from hip bone to hip bone. The tough scar tissue pulls my flesh inward, creating a very small-yet-permanent muffin top. Which, for now, I am okay with.
I am fine with knowing I will probably never feel confident in a two-piece swimsuit ever again. I am fine getting rid of all of the painful reminders that I was once young(er). I am done torturing myself by trying to remain the fabulous 20-something girl I used to be.
I am ready to say goodbye to the girl I once was, like a bittersweet farewell to a friend you know you will remember fondly but probably never speak to again. I am ready to embrace my “mom bod” and the woman I have become, because she is pretty fabulous too.
Photo credit: Whitney Barthel, Thinkstock
