Cleaning out the closet has been so very therapeutic. Trying on all my clothes in front of the long mirror on my door, I have actually been looking at my body with out this intense loathing. Wow! It has taken me nearly 4 decades to get here. What? You mean to tell me I am not disgusting? That I am perfectly beautiful? When did that happen? I was telling Mike before he went to bed, that I have wasted so much time being miserable in my body. Flat miserable. Wasted, all those years. I could have been having fun and being happy and wearing clothes that I loved. But I didn’t. I was hiding from the world, from myself, inside myself. (I still do and will, but that’s a different post.) All because I was convinced that because I was fat, I was disgusting and unworthy and no way would I, could I ever be beautiful. Or even sexy for that matter. But I am. Sexy. Beautiful. Worthy.
Life is wonderful. I am going to live. And wear fantastic clothing. That I will find thrifting. *grin*