Confessions from my Closet

 I have a confession to make: I own too many clothes. 

Here's an even more revealing confession: I've recognized that I hold onto clothes because of fond memories I have of wearing them. 

Yesterday after I did my laundry, I looked in my closet trying to find hangers for my clean clothes. 

No empty hangers. 

In a desperate search for a hanger, I thrust my arm into the closet and rummaged around in my tightly packed shirts. That's when I noticed a lovely cobalt blue top. I'd forgotten about this cute top, buried deep in my closet. Cobalt is one of my favorite colors. I look great in cobalt! This top is sleeveless and flouncy with an overlay of cobalt lace. I remembered its flattering drape. I have fond memories of wearing that top and feeling amazing wearing it. Empowered. Even beautiful. And sexy.

How long has it been since I've worn this cute top? I asked myself. Six years? Seven?

I couldn't remember. It's true that the global pandemic kept me socially distanced for two years, but I'm getting out and about now. And it's summer. Yet I haven't worn this cute, flattering summery top. Why?

Ten seconds later, after pulling this top over my head, I remembered. This cute top is too tight across my chest. The armholes are too tight. Instead of elegantly draping, it announces to the world that I have a tummy. The top hasn't changed, but my body has. This top no longer fits me. It's no longer flattering. It's downright uncomfortable! 

When I try to take off the top, it gets stuck around my chest. I might have to wear this top forever! After careful tugging, I'm finally freed. 

Curious about the size, I look at the tag. No wonder it doesn't fit. It's smaller than my current clothes. To fit into this size, I would have to exercise nonstop like an Olympic gymnast and starve myself like a supermodel. I'm 62 years old. I'm no longer willing to do that to my body.

Time to let it go, I tell myself. Time to let some other woman wear this top, look in the mirror and tell herself: I look beautiful!

Farewell to my lovely cobalt top!

I take a photo of my lovely cobalt top to remember it. Then I remove it from the hanger, gently fold it and drop it into a brown paper grocery bag. 

I found a hanger!

I look at my overstuffed closet and know I can find more hangers for the clothes I actually wear. Clothes that have earned the right to take up prime real estate in my one clothes closet.

Before I can stop myself, a full-frenzied Marie Kondo session ensues. I pull out tops, pants, skirts and dresses from my closet--and then my dresser. I cover my bed with a mountain of clothing. But unlike Marie Kondo, who asks: Does it bring me joy? I ask myself:

• How long has it been since I've worn this? 
• Does it still fit? (If I'm in doubt, I try it on.)
• Does it look good on me--or is it just covering my body?
• Do I feel good wearing this? Do I feel great? Beautiful? Amazing? Empowered? 
• Where will I wear this? 
• What will I wear this with?
• How many tops do I need?
• Am I hanging onto this because I'm associating it with fond memories of wearing it?
• Is it time to let it go and let some other woman wear it?

Marie Kondo attacked my closet!

I said goodbye to a favorite pair of slacks I wore as a newspaper reporter. I bought them 10 years ago and wore them twice a week for four and a half years. That's roughly 468 times I wore those pants as a journalist and felt professional and empowered doing my job.

I said goodbye to a pair of Columbia Sportswear hiking capris that are too small. I have newer hiking capris that fit and I feel fabulous in them. 

I said farewell to two black skirts that are too small and no longer fit my life. Too dressy. They'd require heels. I haven't owned heels in years.

I said farewell to a few sleeveless summer tops I'd bought at thrift shops several years ago, but haven't worn since 2016 or 2017. Five or six years ago. Time to go!

I said "adios" to a pair of quick-dry capris that I used to wear when I paddled a dragon boat. They are too tight--and now I own better pants for water sports.

I said "no way" to two favorite pair of jeans that are NEVER going to fit me again--and that's okay.

Again and again, I said goodbye to clothing that no longer fit or I no longer wore. About an hour later, I'd filled three brown grocery bags with clothes to donate. 

I found enough hangers to hang all my freshly laundered clothes. 

My organized closet: Only clothes that fit me--the size I am today.
And only clothes I love to wear. 

     

Now my closet and my dresser contain only clothes that I wear. Not clothes that might fit me some day when I've lost 10 pounds. When I'm the perfect size, when I'm the perfect me. 

Finally, at age 62, I've realized something so important 

that I want to shout it to every woman: 

At this very moment

I am the perfect size! 

I am the perfect me!

It's time live my life with no regrets. That includes wearing clothes that are comfortable and make me feel beautiful and empowered, no matter what their size. Or mine.

Sometimes you feast on fresh crab, sometimes you don't

Most photos courtesy of Pixabay public domain photos. 

View of Dugualla Bay from my cousin's yard. Photo by Susan Parrish

Has this ever happened to you: You had a first-time experience with a new activity, and everything went perfectly. You assumed it was always going to be that smooth. That easy. That rewarding. That fun. Later when you tried the same activity again, it's a completely different experience.

This week I learned that past experiences are just that: in the past. Just because I experienced something one way doesn't mean I'll have the same experience when I do it again.

Crab pots/courtesy of Pixabay

Five years ago, I had my first opportunity to pull crab pots when I visited my cousin, Donette and her husband, Myron on Whidbey Island. Their friend, Steve, owns a boat and crab pots. During my 2017 visit, I had three opportunities to climb aboard Captain Steve's boat and pull crab pots. The crab gods were with us. It was a thrill to pull pots from Dugualla Bay and find many crabs. 

Crab photo courtesy of Pixabay

How I feasted on fresh crab during that visit! 

Mouthwatering crab dinner. Photo courtesy of Pixabay

So last weekend, when I returned to Whidbey and climbed aboard Steve's boat, I looked forward to pulling pots laden with crabs. I could already taste fresh crab slathered with melted butter! Yum! I'd been waiting five years to repeat my successful first-time crabbing experience.

But alas! It wasn't to be.

Tides in Dugualla Bay have been at historic lows. And the current in the bay was strong. When we climbed onto Steve's boat to retrieve the four crab pots he and Myron had set the previous day, we couldn't even FIND the pots. He uses GPS coordinates to mark the position where he drops his crab pots. We searched in wider and wider circles, but we didn't find any of Steve's pots. They simply were not where they should have been. Finally, after much searching and motoring more than a mile away from where the pots had been dropped into the water, we found one pot, and then another. But we didn't find the other two pots. 

Empty crab pot courtesy Pixabay

No crab this visit.

However, I'm grateful for these positive experiences:

Instead of crab, we feasted on delicious Salmon (from Costco)! 

Salmon dinner courtesy of Pixabay

While searching for crab pots, we circled Seal Rock and saw many seals swimming and some sunning themselves on the rock. 

Seals courtesy Pixabay

We saw a young osprey on a nest in a high piling.

Osprey nest courtesy Pixabay

We saw cormorants, eagles, herons, and many seagulls.

Cormorant photo courtesy Pixabay

We saw a boat that had run aground. 

We had the opportunity to be on the water on a glorious afternoon.

Here's what I learned: Even though we didn't feast on crab, it was still an amazing experience. I'm a believer that if we open our eyes, ears, hands and heart to opportunities around us, we can have amazing experiences every day.

Next year, I hope to return to Whidbey Island during crabbing season. When I climb aboard Steve's boat, I will do it purely for the experience--whatever that may be,

Mount Baker from Whidbey Island: Pixabay

If we are rewarded with delicious crab, even better! 

Elusive crab courtesy Pixabay