Letting Go

Living in the same big house for almost 10 years is a curse. Seriously. When you can go a week without even entering the back half of the house - and when you have a full walk-up third-floor attic - it's damned easy to accumulate stuff. And it's really easy to not let go, even when you're trying to clean things out.

Today I'm swapping out my summer and winter clothes, and I'm also culling a few items that have been stored, basically since we moved here. I'm ashamed to say that I've put on more than a few lbs in the last 10 years, and while my goal is to once again be my "fighting weight," chances are I'm not going to want to wear 10+-year-old clothes when I get there.

But going through these items, it's tough to let go.

The long red slinky dress with the slit up the side that I wore to a dance my senior year at OU. The flirty little dresses I wore when I went to Italy with my mother, dresses that earned me whistles and stares from those nice Italian men (well, they pretty much stare at anyone). That little black dress with all the sparklies that made me feel like I could dance all night.

Then again, there are some memory lanes that should never be walked down again. A pair of jean shorts, color: butter. Yes, butter. A mini skirt that was basically one stretchy black tube. I think I wore that to a concert or two, but those stories are best left off of the internet. Numerous items that should stay in the early nineties, like my turquoise and white "suit" that was a tailored jacket and long shorts. Yup. Even wore it with white tights and tan shoes to the accounting firm.

And so while it's tough letting go, it feels great "digging through the stash" and getting this weight off of my shoulders. Much like my freezer project (which has been slightly on hold but will resume), we're just digging through what we can use and dropping what we can't. Life's too short to hold on to 5-year-old clam sauce and butter-colored jean shorts.