This is what a culling looks like from my closet.
I am giving away about a dozen, at least, tops that no longer fit, as well as about 7 pairs of slacks. Ugh.
So depressing, if I cared the least about how heavy I’ve gotten. My husband likes the feel of me now, at my age, now that I have “grown into my body”, as he likes to say. We laugh because when we were young, I always thought of myself as fat. Now that I am fat, I don’t see it, until I go to the shower. Then, a naked me has to walk in front of the bathroom mirror.
It’s a lying bastard, that’s all I can think. I’m sure I haven’t gotten that big. Ok, I have, but, as long as he still loves me, that’s all I care about.
He is helping me dress appropriately to my size, and, more importantly, to my age. In my mind I’m still in my 50’s; chronologically, however, I’m 67 1/2. I am slowly coming to accept that fact. Slowly.
While I come to grips, stay happy, healthy, and safe. Wash, cover, and protect yourselves. Please.