Thoughts on clothes that don’t fit

The weekend before last I cleaned out my closet including, what I call “the suitcase of doom” it’s my big suitcase and last summer I put into it all the clothes that I don’t fit into anymore, some of which I haven’t fit into in years. And I know that one of the number one things you are supposed to do as part of body acceptance, body positivity, intuitive eating, whatever, is that you are supposed to get rid of clothes that don’t fit. And when I was doing the actual going through the closet bit, it was easy, I was pretty ruthless. I kept a dozen or so things that don’t fit but are only a size too small (and I typically drop a bit of weight in the summer) so I’m not going to get rid of those because they will likely fit by the end of the summer. But there’s other stuff, a couple bits that I haven’t worn since high school, and I just can’t bring myself to get rid of them.

They aren’t even in style anymore.

They haven’t fit since like first year of uni, which makes me nearly 10 years younger than I am now. Logically, I know that it makes sense that my body has changed. I know that these clothes do not fit me, they have not fit me, they are doing me no good hanging in my closet, being moved from apartment to apartment with me, taking up space in my closet and my brain, and why?

And why, when I know this, can I still not get rid of them?

I know that realistically, it is unlikely that I will ever be a size 8 again. I was literally a child when I was an 8, I don’t know why I keep clothes that I would never expect myself to fit in to again.

And then there’s the clothes that are a size that I realistically could be. I would much prefer to be a size 12/14 than a size 18/20, it would make buying clothes so much easier, it would save me money because I have a full wardrobe of clothes in that size. It would make me feel more comfortable in my body in general. But I also am unwilling to do anything that would jeopardize the progress that I have made in terms of food.

I eat bread, I eat potatoes, I eat rice, I eat when I am hungry not in specific windows of time that I have deemed permissible. I don’t work out 4 hours a day. I don’t force myself to eat rice cakes or kale chips or protein powder or cacao nibs that I think are disgusting, or perform an alchemical experiment to bake something that tastes half decent with protein powder and almond flour, but have been told are healthy for me, or will “boost my metabolism”, or “burn calories”.

This isn’t a well thought out guide on how to get rid of clothes that don’t fit that you are unreasonably attached to. It’s not even a decent reflection on body image, although while I go through these clothes I do notice how small they look and think about how big I thought they were, and I was, back when I was buying them when they did fit.

And I’ve heard/read similar stuff to that “Oh, if only I was as fat as I was the first time I thought I was fat.” but isn’t that even more fucked up and the same diet culture nonsense as all the other stuff that we say about ourselves?

But then is there a line? If so, where is it? Is there a balance between eating in a way that helps my brain and soul feel whole and healthy and a way that keeps my body happy? Because when I am actively hating my body and wanting to look different, is that really keeping my brain healthy?

I wish this had resulted in an answer for me, and therefore for you, dear reader, but thus far there is no answer to share.


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