This seems like the right place to go into this. No, I have no links to clothing resources in this post, but during the life of this thread, we’ve gotten off on some rich tangents on the role of clothes in our lives and in this struggle, that it seemed natural to turn to the `threads thread’ with these ramblings.
Background info:
I’m staying near a bigger town this summer, one where I have more shopping options than I do in the winter, at least when it comes to buying used clothing. I imagine some folks flinching at the thought of second-hand clothes—yet, yesterday as I was going through the racks at Value Village, it struck me that shopping there over the years has really educated my eye, fingers, and sensibilities in clothing. There is a lot of cheaply made clothing there, but nicer things turn up as well, expensive name brands sandwiched between discount store brands, silks and wools and butter-soft cords in jewel colors on the racks next to the flimsy synthetics. Without that place, I could never have afforded the wardrobes I’ve owned, and could not have kept myself in clothes that I like while losing weight.
As I grew smaller this time, I benefited from a few items I bought awhile back in hopes that they would fit someday—a policy which hasn’t worked well in the past, when the too-small/never-worn clothes are a rebuke of hopes. Ah, but I’m a sucker for a pretty dress. . . so it worked out, and I’m very glad that this time around I had the hope and trust to make the buys I did that I’m wearing now.
This summer, more than midway through my year of changing my life, more than halfway through my weight loss, I did it again--along with getting some these-fit-nows, I`bought ahead’ a bit.
Rationale (work with me here, folks):
R#1: Since each item in these thrift shops is usually one-of-a-kind, and the turnover is high, you can’t really think too long about a purchase.
R#2: I’ve bought several dresses this summer that would have cost me more per-item new than I paid for the entire purchase.
R#3: I smile when I see them hanging in the closet, imagining myself wearing them at work, and finding them cheering, feeling cute-ish.
R#4: I am grateful that I know myself well enough now, fashion-wise, to be able to purchase clothes a size or four too small, and know what they will fit like, and that I will like them.
R#5: I won’t have access to the thrift shop this winter, so when I’m losing down to a 16, a 14, a 12, a 10 (!) I won’t be able to go in and shop then. Stocking up for the winter.
R#6: I really believe I'm gonna make it this time, and that I will (WILL) wear these clothes someday. This winter.
End rationale.
Segue:
It feels good to be able to buy for my bones.
Our skeletons are the frame that the rest of the body hangs from. When I am small enough that my internal framework defines the size of my body, my clothes fit differently. When I wear things that fall from the shoulders, drape over the curve of my hips, slide with ease over my upper arms, there is a `rightness’ to the way the clothes fit. When I wear clothes to fit my fat-ness instead, the fit is rarely that good, because many of the clothes made in larger sizes are not built on the assumption of smaller frameworks with lots of padding. An item of clothes that fits in the hips often sags in the shoulders, and makes me feel even dumpier. On the other hand, as I move into smaller sizes, I get closer to that `ideal’ fit—my shoulders are about a size 10 when I’m not overweight. (I’ve been there only briefly, but remember it well.)
There is something else I’ve noticed about clothes now; the weight of the clothes matters to me. I’m so accustomed to clothing that contains a lot of fabric that I didn’t even know it bothered me—but now when I have the opportunity to find a garment that is light in weight, I love that lightness—it feels so good to slip on a shirt that only weighs a fraction of what other shirts I’ve owned did. Sounds kinda silly but yeah and there it is.
SO. Two more things to natter about and then will shut up. I have one more purchase I love dearly—I found a hat that looks good on me! It’s a straw hat, kind of hard to describe—brand new, with the tags on. There were two, and I went back the next day and bought the second one (and some more dresses, another story. . . ) This is significant because I’ve never found a hat I looked good in before. It’s an openweave seagrass hat with a brim and a jaunty twisted navy band and a whisper of the Outback and a thousand personalities, and it just wants to go out and play and you can hear the ocean if you hold it to your ear. A Magic Hat.
And the last thing is that I went sleeveless two days ago. And the world did not come to an end. As a matter of fact, a few men even looked at me like I looked . . . well. . . nice. (okay, so I had the Hat on.) And I have seriously cute shoulders (still there after all these year. Whaddayaknow.) I swung by a restroom and checked myself out. Yep. Still have the underarm thing, and the stretchy skin. Couldn’t they see that? What’samatter with them? So. Maybe. Just maybe. The underarm thing and the stretchy skin are not quite such a big deal. Maybe I don’t have to wear long sleeves forever to keep from breaking people’s eyes? Maybe. Maybe it was the Hat. I told you it’s magic . . .
More clothing sources
Re: "Now I just need a boyfriend".
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