I'm Breaking Up With My Clothes.

Today, I had a bit of a breakdown. It wasn't over something serious. No. It was over my... clothes. Funny how something so trivial, can make you feel like you're the Flea (Kuzco) inside the box that Yzma is going to "smash with a hammer". Try not saying that in her voice because I definitely couldn't. The flea being my self-esteem.

So, there I sat. In our room, among all of our clothes that were lying in a pile on the floor. Crying because I hate all of them. All these freaking clothes, and nothing fits, or feels right. They are itchy. Or stretched out. Or too small. Or too big. Or just aren't me anymore.

I gave birth to Renner a little over 2 years ago, and still my clothes don't fit right. I've bought some here and there that make me feel pretty, or I think look good. But usually they were a quick grab off the rack when browsing with the kid, and didn't have time to try it on. And not to mention that half the clothes I do have are from my high school days, and let's be honest, my body ain't near the same as those days haha. Mama's got a whole new frame now.

Let me be quite clear though. This isn't an "I hate my body" post. So don't get that confused. I do quite love my body. With all of it's imperfection, and curves. I always have. Are there things I wish I could change? Of course. Could the booty be a little tighter? Sure. But that's what those squats are for. Unfortunately, I just love to not do them.

So, as I sat in the pile of our clothes, having an ugly crying/poor me sesh, I came to the conclusion to just  g e t   r i d   o f   t h e m. I have this weird.. not obsession, but attachment? Yeah, attachment, to all my clothes. I can't bear the thought of getting rid of a single piece. What if one day I remembered that one shirt that I haven't worn in over a year, and finally had the occasion to wear it? That day hasn't come yet, but I'm just sayin', it could.

But now I think I've finally reached my limit. I'm tired of feeling like I have nothing to wear, but have this giant pile of clothes. I actually hate that feeling.

Now I'm just going to sort through them, and decide which ones get the boot, or the hanger. The ones that I am getting rid of I'll bring to Goodwill, or to a consignment store, and hopefully get something in return for those, since we don't have an unlimited supply of funds to update my entire wardrobe.

It's in these moments that I actually feel like I'm growing up. I will still mourn the loss of the ones that I wish I could of had a more exclusive relationship with, but it was time for me to move on to better, prettier, and more comfortable things.

Here's to hoping that the husband takes pity on me, and funds me a shopping trip. New clothes for the wife equals happy life, right?