I am not the largest member of the online sewing community, but I was/am not comfortable in my own skin. At risk of type 2 diabetes, and being easily out of breath, and struggling to paint my own damn toenails, I knew things had to change.
|Left me, right my sister, taken in May 2016 but at roughly the same weight as when I started WW|
The same feelings go for the rest of my imperfect, but specially curated wardrobe. It is small, I do not have provisions for all seasons, it consists of 75% black clothing, and the rest made up from navy, grey, and the rare pop of a gingham or olive green. My clothes have meaning, each has its own story, and the small amount of items mean I really do remember when it was made and why. The only way my clothes could be more personal is if I wove the cloth they are made from (which is unlikely to happen!).
So now I am two stone lighter, and they say I should feel healthier! They say I should really feel the difference! They say I should be "#so proud"! They say I should see the difference! Happy happy, joy joy! Well spoiler alert, I don't. I can't see the difference, I don't feel healthier, I can paint my toenails a bit easier though.
I know through the evidence of the scale, and through the fit of my clothes that it is happening for real. I see my clothes looking sad and baggy. I live in leggings and a sad baggy tonic tee if I am not leaving the house. My embroidered Ginger jeans are so far into droopy arseville that I can't even go there with them any more. My dearly loved polka dotted blouse is now a sad saggy sack. But I should be pleased by this so they say.
The reason I kept my wardrobe so small is because of my preference for a sustainable wardrobe. I hate waste, I hate throwaway clothes culture, and I love having only things I enjoy wearing. I understand my views are the minority here, no hating on those sewists who have a large bounty of handmade clothing in their closet, "To thine own self be true" after all. Growing out, or should that be shrinking out, of my clothes whilst they are not worn enough to be worn out and too worn for the charity shop is causing me anxiety. I feel wasteful.
The personal nature of my relationship with my clothing is making me miserable. I can't bring myself to make some new items to tide me over the next 2 stone loss to go through the feeling of waste again. I don't even feel like I can re-purpose the fabric from any of my existing clothes into only temporary garments. I get that this is not a normal way to think about ones clothing. Buying new in a size smaller is one of the thrills most women get to boost them on their often long and hard journey, I don't even know what size dress I would pick up off the rack it has been so long since I got anything but bras and those stretchy saviours keeping me from wandering round in just my knickers.
I'm sure that for many sewists this sound like the ramblings of a madwoman, and for those who do not sew it surely sounds madder still! Perhaps I am too sentimental, too obsessed, too neurotic...but I would never choose to again have that impersonal relationship with the things that are literally, albeit not figuratively, closest to me. Sewing has taught me patience, responsibility, mindfulness, confidence, and made me aware of all those little body quirks that you would never know if not for taking all those measurements.
There is more to life than clothes, no shadow of a doubt on that one, but clothes are the reflections of life, and I for one value them deeply.