Dear Box of Clothes,
For me to sit here and pretend that the sole reason I have not opened you and decided to give you away is because I simply didn't have time would be a lie. While I was busy, maybe it's because I wanted to be that way. Over the past three years, you have been sitting in a corner in my bedroom just waiting to be given life again. But I have been struggling. Your contents were more to me than just shirts that I wore several years ago. They were the clothes that I wore on my first date. The clothes that I wore when I first thought that I may be in love. Those shirts were the cotten that draped over my skinny body during the years that I hated my body most- which were also the years that I was my thinnest.
These clothes have been sitting in my room collecting dust when they could've been at a donation center waiting to get worn again. But I've come to terms as to why they haven't left my bedroom, even when I needed more space, and they would be they ideal thing to rid myself of because they no longer fit my body.
For years I have been distracting myself. I've been thinking that these shirts are my goal shirts. If I could get down to this size again, that I could be happy. That this time if I lost the weight, I would be healthy about it rather than depriving myself of meals. That this time I would flaunt my clothes more confidently. That this time I promise myself that I will go to the gym every day until the weight falls off. I could make it happen.
Today I opened that sad lonely box to find shirts that if I'm being honest with myself, I really wouldn't wear today anyway. But the size of the clothes have been holding me. As if getting rid of them means getting rid of the version of myself that made others think that I was beautiful. As if getting rid of them would lessen my worth. But looking at them now, I would love to get rid of them. But looking at the sizes of the shirts made me sad and made me revisit old thoughts. These shirts are not who I am. My ability to fit in this shirt does not define how worthy I am of life and whether or not I can be happy. But rather my ability to be comfortable and confident in my body, is every reason to be happy.
Dear box of clothes,
I don't need you anymore.
