Losing It: My Clothes Are Mocking Me

My husband and I had been dating for about two months when he allowed me to clean out his closet.

Ew! No, that’s not code for some weird sexual move. Get your head out of the gutter, people, my parents are reading this.

He actually let me pick through his clothes and, after a brief discussion as to the merits of some items, put things into “keep,” “donate” and “toss” piles. Many, many hours—and eight huge garbage bags—later, I had accomplished the task. I had gotten rid of a Hypercolors T-shirt. Cosby sweaters in varyingly loud colors and patterns. Too-short jeans. MANY circa-1993 flannels (that he still swears will come back into style). I could go on. The one thing he would not part with, under any circumstances, was his stash of comedy clothes. Comedy clothes are things like his Pee Wee Herman suit and bow tie; a shiny, orange, polyester shirt; and a jingly jester hat. He keeps these things on hand in case we are invited to a party that would necessitate him wearing such things. As if we go to lots of parties. And, if we did, one of them would call for the Pee Wee Herman suit.

To be fair, I guess I have my own set of comedy clothes. But mine are comical in a different way, in that they are the ones laughing at me. The beautiful size-2 suits from when I worked at the Philly Chamber of Commerce 10 years ago? Have ’em. The size 0 (!) brown suede Banana Republic blazer? Hanging up. The size-2, delicate, to-the-knee, Asian-patterned skirt? In there. The size-6.5 gold strappy sandals? They’re in there too, but are too small because my stupid feet grew when I was pregnant, and instead of getting rid of them like a normal human being, I stuff my feet into them and suffer. Because I like to inflict pain upon myself, apparently. But that is neither here nor there.

It’s like my closet is the clothing version of Toy Story. When I turn out the lights and close the door they all start talking about me. A conversation might go something like this:

Way-too-small Citizens of Humanity Jeans (high-maintenance, haughty. Voiced by Kristen Davis): Ugh. She hasn’t worn me in at least three years. It’s like she doesn’t even know me anymore!

Size 2 Bathing Suit (fun, sarcastic. Voiced by Mila Kunis): Zip it, denim [see what my bathing suit did there? My clothes are HILARIOUS!], at least you’re at eye level where she can touch you as she brushes by you! I’m at the bottom of some bin, mixed in with the underused sports bras and a random slipper. It’s humiliating. And smelly.

White button-down shirt (authoritative, voice of reason. Voiced by Glenn Close): Come on, guys. It’s so not you. It’s her! It’s not that she doesn’t WANT to wear you—it’s that she CAN’T! Did you see her try to button me up last week? Is she kidding? Hey Spanx, buddy, where are you when we need you?

Entire closet roars with laughter while camera pans to me snoring and drooling in bed, oblivious to CGI-magicked mockery occurring mere feet from me.

And … scene. Oscar-worthy performances, no?

I think it’s time to take control of my closet back from Glenn Close and friends. It’s time to lose this weight and shut them all up by being able to wear them again. Let my husband be the only one in the family who owns comedy clothes … until I sneak in in the middle of the night and toss them, too. Because no one should own an orange, shiny, polyester shirt. NO ONE!

What I Did This Week

My up-for-anything friend Alysha and I met up for Piloxing—a Pilates/boxing hybrid—at the Newtown Athletic Club on Sunday. I’ve never done Pilates, nor have I ever boxed, so this was going to be interesting. The class was pretty packed so we figured there had to be something to it. Instructor Susan got started and literally did not stop moving for the entirety of the class. She played great music (I’m learning that this is a necessity for me in an exercise class) and kept the routines short enough that they were easy to learn and repeat. Short did not mean easy, however, because my legs were burning and my teeth were grinding at a few different points during the class. She moved between boxing routines and Pilates routines without skipping a beat and ended the class with some floor work and the dreaded Hundred. Piloxing, if you’ll have me back I would love to see you again. I think we might be able to make this work!

Next up: I’ll be taking a spin on Lifestyle Fitness Solution’s Biofit Infrared Bike!

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Robin Raskin blogs about her weight loss journey every Thursday on Be Well Philly. Catch up on the series here, and follow her on Twitter at @RobinRaskin.