I've been rampaging through my house, purging unwanted things and trying to improve our household organization. It's such a great feeling, as Christmas seems to bloat a house with new belongings.
The idea of a minimalist wardrobe has always intrigued me, so I figured I would start working my way down to having such a wardrobe. I made a list of things I absolutely need to have and sat on it for a few days. Facing so many too-small items, many of which were brand-new shortly before pregnancy, was bound to be difficult.
I am a solid twenty pounds from fitting into most of those things. I didn't even bother to pack them away when I was pregnant or after Avery was born because I thought the weight would fall off. And I was surely going to get back to being very fitness- and nutrition-conscious after my 6-week post-partum check up. The unfortunate reality is that neither weight loss nor fitness has happened. The only time I can bring myself to care about my weight is when I see a photo of me, or when I am trying on pants and get size-shock. Otherwise, it doesn't gross me out when I look in the mirror, nor am I terribly self-conscious about it. I haven't had any of the "I'm too big" meltdowns that I had before pregnancy and motherhood.
It's okay to let go of the clothes that don't fit. It's also okay to let go of the clothes that fit but make me feel frumpy. Letting go of things sized smaller is not the same as admitting personal defeat on weight loss. It means that I don't need to face a daily reminder of what I am not, and that I deserve to have clothing that fits and makes me feel nice.
I signed up for a 5k fun run today. It's in June, so I have just over 5 months to go from couch potato to runner. I'm not promising myself weight loss because, frankly, I'm not ready to put in the work to make it happen. What I'm doing is promising myself I'll be healthy. That I will give myself the gift of more energy and less anxiety. That I will be capable of running around with my child.