A staggering one-third. I caught this statistic on a lifestyle segment featuring a seasoned doctor from a highly regarded hospital, so it must have some truth to it. With this knowledge, and aware that I’m firmly in that troubling third, you’d think the last thing I’d want to do is declutter my closet—the Treasured Vault of ’80s and ’90s Fashion Memories. And yet, that’s precisely the conundrum presented by this one-third statistic.
My Body is on a Rollercoaster Ride
I suspect I’m in the initial stage of menopause, also known as perimenopause. My body is acting peculiar. Areas are shifting, some parts are flattening, while others are expanding in unpredictable ways. The great jean purge highlighted this reality: some were in the “skinny” category, while others designated the “who cares, I’m just going with the flow” size.
I vividly remember purchasing those “skinny” jeans—how the fitting room attendant brought me smaller sizes, and we shared a high-five when I realized I could fit into something smaller than I had anticipated. Then there was the moment of sticker shock at the register. It plays like a movie in my mind, along with my silent promise: These jeans are too pricey to ever outgrow.
Yet, there I was, caught somewhere in the early stages of menopause, wrestling with whether to toss the jeans or, more importantly, whether to let go of the dream of fitting back into them. With a lump in my throat, I added them to the donation pile.
I’m Not That Woman Anymore
Frustrated with my denim dilemma, I turned to a stack of novelty shirts I had collected over the years—like the vibrant pink Harley-Davidson tank that used to look stunning on me a decade ago. Time, however, had played its cruel tricks, altering those flattering areas in all the wrong ways.
Another piece for the giveaway pile, another sigh, another lump. Then I moved on to my favorite concert T-shirt, which still fit, but the sentiment had shifted: “I Heart This Bar.” While a great anthem at a Toby Keith concert, it wasn’t exactly appropriate for work, church, or a PTA gathering. So, it joined the donation stack as well.
Breaking this disheartening cycle, my husband chimed in with, “Wow, that’s quite a donation pile! You’re doing great, honey. Feel good about it?” His enthusiasm was sweet, but tears welled in my eyes, making it difficult to express my feelings as I held onto a pair of heels destined for the same fate.
Men Just Don’t Get It
According to the Wii Fit, my husband hasn’t budged in weight for five years. Five whole years! He still wears clothes from the time when A Flock of Seagulls was the soundtrack of youth. Sure, he has some gray hairs, but he’s never been left tongue-tied mid-sentence by a hot flash. His waistline remains steady, while I’m left grappling with what I used to be and what I once aspired to be.
I tried explaining my feelings about the whole ordeal, how it was more disheartening than liberating. He listened but struggled to find the right words. “Do you think you’ll ever wear those clothes again?” he asked, not fully grasping the situation. I shot him a look that said it all, and he quickly retreated, sensing my frustration. As for me? There was no epiphany about embracing my body just yet. Perhaps that realization will come in the later stages of menopause that every woman experiences.
For more discussions on change and self-acceptance, check out our other blog post at intracervicalinsemination.com.
In summary, decluttering your closet can be a journey filled with unexpected emotions and realizations about body image and self-acceptance. If you’re navigating similar feelings, it’s important to remember that you’re not alone.