While I wouldn’t call myself a hoarder, per se, there was definitely a suspicious amount of old and unused clothing crowding my closet space. Items that I had inherited while at seminary, and that were occasionally pulled out against my better judgment, hung warily in between newer and more appropriate clothing.
It was only a matter of time before these nostalgic pieces had to go. However, there was something so comforting about having them there that I put off the necessary weeding. I was avoiding the potential feeling of regret at ridding myself of an article of clothing only to want it a couple of weeks later.
Really, though, many of the pieces were just not flattering. At all. In these past few weeks I took a good hard look at what was hanging in my closet and make some tough calls. You, out! And you, too! You? I haven’t worn you in ages! And not just because I was pregnant, either.
Two medium-sized boxes were filled with gently used clothes. They will be nice on someone, just not me. It feels great.