Memoirs of a Fat Girl

I don't own the box set of Sex and the City although many times I've been seriously tempted to run out and get it; unfortunately other things take precedence right now, like furniture. Luckily I do have the last season, and in it, a truth that is clearer than crystal.

In "The Post-It Always Sticks Twice," Charlotte gets engaged, Carrie gets dumped via a sticky note, and the girls all go to a funky club. While getting dressed for the club, Miranda notices something poking out from her closet:

"And speaking of No Excuses, there they were. Her skinny jeans. The jeans every woman keeps in the vain hope that someday, she'll fit into them again."

Oh, yes. Yes yes, yes yes yes. If you are female and haven't enjoyed the perfect body every single day for your entire life, you know this all too well. Somewhere in your fashion haul is that pair of jeans from yesteryear that shaped your ass into perfect, perky cantaloupes, made you walk with a strut, and gave you all the power in the world.

My tale is a little more twisted. I did have this pair of skinny jeans I used to fit into, in fact they were in my closet for years. After losing that pile of weight awhile back I tried them on and was ecstatic when they fit again... but somewhat less thrilled when I saw just how seriously out of style they were. High waisted, acid wash, tapered at the cuffs, the works.

Out of my closet they went, and I haven't missed them. But then, I couldn't not have skinny jeans to look forward to, and so I bought a new pair. I've never worn them in real life, but in fantasy world, look out mama. I'm smokin', I'm hot, I'm unstoppable in my dark denim, low rise Rock & Republic jeans.

There's more.

Inspired by a fellow blogger that freeing myself of clutter would free my mind to concentrate on the more important things in life (thanks b!), I started a mass delousing of my basement suite that led me to a forgotten place.

On the top shelf of my closet, behind a dozen or so scarves - I have a scarf addiction - is a jumble of clothing and accessories that I have sworn off of until I'm thin. Unlike more normal people I didn't stop at skinny jeans. I gave myself an entire nook.

Some I can't fit into, and some are pieces I'd rather wear when in a "reduced" state of being. The Rock & Republics are there; a short leather poncho with an exotic stone and a couple of feathers on it; a Cora Kemperman sleek black coat with a leather tie around the waist that I picked up in Amsterdam. A handful of my favourite t-shirts: a fitted, baby blue long sleeved Theory with white bands around the upper arms, a Project E turqoise baby golf tee with two rhinestone X's, and a long sleeve white with a Breakfast at Tiffany's graphic on the front. Independent designer.

There's the gorgeous green and gold silk pashmina wrap a friend got me from Rajasthan, a totally outrageous Giselle Shepatin red and black ostrich feather boa that I picked up last year at a Cirque du Soleil show, black leather boots with a white stripe down the sides, a chain link Stella McCartney evening bag, and one of the cutest outfits ever: chocolate brown Capri pants with shells on the belt, and a white, short-sleeved wraparound blouse.

There's just one more thing in the nook that totally outdoes the skinny jeans: a white and green Burberry mini skirt. I absolutely love this skirt. I love the fabric, I love the print, I love holding it up, admiring it, and I love knowing I picked up at 65% off. I also love it because I know it'll be dazzling on me when the time comes.

When the time comes, when the time comes. Does that make me a hopeless dreamer? Maybe. But having my skinny things in my skinny nook doesn't make me feel bad, it makes me feel good. It gives me a future, and something to pull towards.

If anything, it shows I have fabulous taste.