One-third. I caught this statistic during a daytime talk show featuring a well-regarded physician, so it must hold some truth. Acknowledging this, and recognizing that I’m definitely part of that troublesome one-third, you’d think I’d avoid clearing out my closet—the Multi-Decade Sanctuary of Nostalgic Treasures from the ’80s and ’90s.
Yet, that very one-third statistic complicates matters.
My Body is in Flux
I suspect I’m in the early stages of menopause, specifically perimenopause. My body is undergoing unpredictable changes. Some areas are shrinking, while others seem to be expanding without warning. The Great Jean Purge highlighted this: I had pairs in the “skinny” category and others marked as “well, I guess I’m just growing.”
I remember purchasing those smaller sizes vividly. I can still picture the fitting room attendant bringing in smaller options, and the exhilaration when I realized I didn’t need to buy the size I initially thought. But there I was, grappling with whether to let go of those jeans—or, more accurately, the hope of fitting into them again. With a heavy heart, I added them to the donation pile.
I’m No Longer That Girl
Frustrated with the jeans debacle, I turned my attention to a collection of novelty shirts I had amassed over the years. Take, for instance, the pink Harley-Davidson tank that once flattered my figure perfectly. Time, however, has acted like a clumsy plastic surgeon, altering the “right places” into new territories.
Another item for the giveaway pile. Another sigh, another lump in my throat.
Then, I stumbled upon my favorite concert T-shirt. It still fit, but the sentiment felt out of place: “I Heart This Bar.” A fun reminder of a Toby Keith concert, but hardly appropriate for work, church, or any school meetings. Another piece added to the giveaway stack.
My husband chimed in with a supportive remark, “Wow, that’s quite the giveaway pile! Good job, sweetie. Don’t you feel accomplished?” Tears welled in my eyes, making it difficult to toss the heeled shoes I had once adored.
Men Don’t Quite Get It
According to the Wii Fit, my husband hasn’t fluctuated in weight for five years—five long years. He still fits into clothes from the days when A Flock of Seagulls was the sound of the moment. Sure, he has some gray hairs, but his hypothalamus hasn’t left him stranded in mid-sentence during a hot flash. His waistline remains a constant, unlike mine.
He certainly hasn’t had to confront the need to relinquish what he used to be or what he once dreamed of becoming. I shared my frustrations, expressing how this experience was draining, not liberating. He listened but struggled to find the right words to comfort me, ultimately deciding silence was the best option. “Do you think you’ll ever wear those clothes again?” he ventured.
I shot him a look that could’ve sparked a perimenopausal meltdown. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he retreated to a safer distance, away from the shoes I was ready to part with. And me? I didn’t have any profound epiphany about embracing my current self. I’m just hoping that understanding will come in the final stages of menopause that all women navigate.
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Summary
Cleaning out your closet can prompt an emotional journey, especially during life transitions like menopause. As you confront the memories attached to your clothes, it’s essential to be prepared for some honest self-reflection. The process can be challenging but ultimately rewarding, leading to new beginnings and insights.