Bad Girl's What Not to Wear (and what's left...)

I just emptied my closet of everything that doesn’t fit.  Hoo boy.  Have I been living in a dream world.  On the other hand, I can find all four remaining items quickly now.  (okay, six.)

Three sizes of clothes were in that closet. Three.  Sizes one and two (not their real names) were obviously made in China, where voluptuous is a concept rarely understood. 

Itemized list of remaining items:

1.      One sapphire blue chiffon evening gown, cut to there.  Yup, requires a special bra, one of those ‘plunge’ bras (and I don’t mean push up.)  I call this dress “my last hurrah.” See, my theory is, people are so mesmerized watching to see if the girls are going to fall out, that they don’t notice the rest of the bod.  (Don’t knock it – works for me.)

2.       One not horrible silk kimono tunic top.  Cost the earth (meaning more than 50 bucks.)  The current ‘go-to’ favourite for book signings.  (Now, the only choice for book signings.)  Also blue.  Seeing a trend here.

3.       One pair of boring black pants.  The ones with the adjustable waistline, and by that I mean a choice of two buttons.  (I tried elastic once.  Not on my A list.  I don’t contract well under pressure.  Remember those baby dolls from the 60s? You squeezed and they let out a burp…nuff said.)

4.       My funeral dress.  Black. Shapeless.  I was hoping it didn’t fit.  Wish it were blue.

5.       One navy and emerald green Nygard designer jacket that goes with nothing.  (Of course, there’s nothing left for it to go with.  I’ve just given it all away.)

6.      A blouse I hate.  But it fits.  (That’s why I hate it.)

It looks lonely in there.  Think I better empty the dresser drawers and hang up some sweaters.  And maybe a yoga pant or two.  Bras?  The hang in stores, don’t they?  Do cotton nightgowns count? 

Of course, clearing out a closet after seven years (the last time we moved) is a lot of work.  Some might say, it is more work than losing a few pounds to get back into some of these clothes.  (Okay, so I’m going to hell for that lie.  Humour me.)

But I have a theory about that.   Everybody knows if you want to get pregnant, forget about taking your temperature and all that crap; the quickest way to get pregnant it is to give away your maternity clothes.  So I figure…give away my thin clothes, and I’m BOUND to lose weight