Is that what your closet looks like? No, mine either. *Sigh*. To be fair, wardrobes like this don’t happen to people like me… I do have a really lovely wardrobe, in fact three lovely wardrobes, but it’s complicated. They are bursting at the seams with clothes…skinny clothes. I can’t put my fat clothes in there. Yes, when I say it out loud I appreciate how ridiculous that sounds but I just can’t do it…if my fat clothes were ever to make it across the threshold of my wardrobe, that’s tantamount to admitting that they’re staying, and that would never do, because they’re not. Obviously.
So the fat clothes – you know the ones that have fitted me for the last six years or so – exist in kind of a holding pattern between the wash basket, the ironing pile and my one ‘fat clothes’ drawer. My skinny clothes on the other hand – the ones that fitted me for about ten minutes – have hung undisturbed since the day I sloped out of the skinny zone with my tail between my legs and started eating all the pies.
When I’m skinny, I love to shop. I have a thing about business suits and evening dresses in particular, which is strange in itself, because I have no real cause to wear either. I mean I could go to work in a suit if I wanted to, but the skinny me could probably wear a different one every day for months before I’d worked my way around them all…a lot of them still have the tags on. As for evening dresses, although I’ve probably got a couple of dozen in my skinny wardrobe, I can count on one hand the occasions I’ve actually needed to wear one…I don’t live that life.
Which begs the question, whose life was I actually buying them for? I’m the kind of girl who can’t wait to climb into PJs as soon as I get in from work. Weekends come around, and I love nothing more than kicking back with my family, or having friends around for a few scoops or a nice meal, but dressy black tie functions..? Not for me. It’s never been my thing at all. It’s as if I thought that once I’d hit the skinny zone, this whole new and different world was going to open up and I’d start doing things I’d never enjoyed, and living a lifestyle I’ve never aspired to. Which, when you put it like that makes me sound like a right muppet.
I can’t help thinking that it’s another example of a real mis-fire in the way I think about stuff – skinny equals a glamorous just-stepped-off-the-pages-of-vogue lifestyle, where fat equals jersey pyjamas and a love affair with my armchair. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a bloody great chair – but there’s absolutely no reason I couldn’t buy skinny pyjamas and kick back and relax in it as a skinny girl…no glamour required, and the real me could dig in to live the life I choose, not the one I think I ought to want.
Perhaps it’s time for a clear out…or maybe I’ll leave them there just a wee while longer…after all, skinny I’m comin’ to get ya 🙂
