If you're even reading this paragraph to begin with, I commend you. You must be really bored to care about me going through heaps of old clothes, and even more bored to care about what my thoughts are while doing said chore. Perhaps you're here because you've been through it, and you think I might be able to sympathize. And I assure you, I can sympathize.

I recently lost a good chunk of weight and most of the clothing I had before simply didn't fit, especially pairs of pants. I'm also a new mom, and as such, it had been a while since I bought something I needed for myself. But I've been collecting a few new pieces of clothing, both to replace my old worn-through stuff but also to perk my spirits a little. Ladies who love to shop, you know what that retail therapy can do for the soul.

Once I had gathered all the clothes from my closet and my dresser, I got to work sorting them. Stuff to keep, stuff to throw away, and stuff to give away. These are all the thoughts that ran through my head as I went through my clothes:

This is mountainous. I have a mountain of clothes. When I get done, I should plant my flag at the top.

Okay, about half of these are either worn through, ripped, or I haven't worn them in over a year. That makes me feel a little less extravagant.

Holy...all right, about half of these clothes left over are frumpy old T-shirts from special events. Definitely gotta get rid of some of those.

Wow, four skirts. That's not a lot, but I guess I don't wear them super frequently.

Two pairs of pants? Ummm, this is crisis level inventory. I just went shopping but I need to do it again.

Definitely an oversupply of T-shirts.

Also, there's a lot of black and navy. Maybe I need a little more color in my life.

More color, but less stripes. I feel like everything I own with a pattern is striped.

I feel a lot better. I feel like my whole life is in order. (But really I know it'll be a mess again by the end of next week. Hashtag struggle bus.)