On Thursday, I went through my closet and started weeding out clothes I no longer wear, like, or fit into. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do since, well, forever. Most of my clothes are thrifted so I have this bad habit of buying anything since it’s cheap as fuck and I won’t feel too bad if I wear it just once. Or never at all. Faster than I can say “gerllll, sale sa Anonas ukay!!!”, I had run out of space and my closet was filled with clothes I wouldn’t or don’t care to wear.
It’s a little annoying.
So I took a box and started dumping stuff in it with the intention of selling them off at the upcoming Tumblr Fair (I promise not all my clothes are ugly). If I hesitated over something, it went straight into the box. My goal is to free my closet from clutter before re-filling it with pieces I truly love.
However, this is not about my closet nor is it a rumination about my personal style. Instead, this is about a pair of shorts.
In 2007, dressy shorts were trendy. Fashion tabloid critics hated them. Wear real slacks! they judged. Shorts will never be formal! I saw a photo of Kristen Bell wearing them at some fancy event and I was sold. I don’t know my feelings were towards denim shorts/cut-offs five years ago but looking back, I don’t think a pair ever made it to my closet. Strange, considering I lived in jeans (day) and denim skirts (night, because I had issues with my leg scars) then. I was in my early 20s without an internet connection at our minimalistic condo unit and Lookbook didn’t launch ’til the next year so all I’m saying is that I had no idea what I was doing or wearing in 2007. So I bought that pair of shorts (which don’t even qualify as dress shorts, I know) and I LOVED THEM. Loved them enough to still have them in my closet five years later which is also the number of years they went unworn, sitting at the near bottom of my Shorts Pile.
These shorts are kind of memorable because I was wearing them in the first photo I ever uploaded to Facebook.
If I’m not mistaken, that picture was taken right before friends and I went to Route 196 where we got drunk on rumcokes before heading back to our place to drink more rum and I think that was when I attempted to do a yoga pose WHILE DRUNK and I ended up spraining my wrist.
Memorable, I say.
I was ready to chuck it in the box when I thought “Hey, let me try them on!”
So I pulled them on and… I laughed. Sat down in front of my laptop, pulled up my Facebook, and looked at that photo. Then I thought to myself: “How did I get so fat?”
I already know the answer— bad habits, bad diet, a four-month sedentary lifestyle etc etc. But really, how could I have let myself go? Why did I allow this to happen? Granted, that photo was taken five years ago when I had time on my side and I barely ate (body issues, choosing alcohol calories over food calories etc etc).
And I can’t believe I used to think I was fat.
I sat down and laughed about it with my boyfriend. The shorts went right back into my closet along with a goal: to fit into them again. I don’t know how I’m going to do it but I will. Or if I can’t (because maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t at a healthy weight five years ago), then I will get fit again. I do this all the time: make a vow to get fit and stay fit only to become lazy and think “lol, let’s just not eat.” It’s different now, though, because I’m older and my metabolism is obviously not what it used to be. That and I don’t want to wait until I’m forty pounds too late (I’m about halfway there, though).
Unsurprisingly, I still have that white top (it’s an undershirt; the kind that dainty high school girls wear over their bras and under their uniform’s blouse) so I put both things on and snapped a photo.
And I’m posting it even though it embarrasses me greatly and makes me want to sob into a box of antacids and shady Chinese diet pills.
I AM GOING TO GET SERIOUS! I signed up for MyFitnessPal (that’s how you know ~shit got real~) and I plan to ease my way back into fitness. I wish I could jump right into working out again but my current schedule doesn’t permit it, though I might suck it up and do quick 15-minute workouts daily. Seriously— how far I’ve fallen. What’s fifteen minutes???
And that is my story of shame and determination (and embarrassing picture) of the day.