Laughing Myself Senseless

Every spring I’m inspired by the fantasy of living in an orderly and organized world. So once again this dreamer declared war on clutter.

I am proud to report that I won the battle of the bedroom — almost. Unfortunately, after a day’s grueling combat in my bedroom closet, I realize my call to victory was premature.

Bedroom closets are funny things. I finally finish weeding through my clothes, shoes and accessories and decide what goes and what stays, and poof, the moment I close my closet it’s filled to capacity again.

I know the rule of thumb is to toss an item of clothing that hasn’t been worn in a year, but what about the person who has worn everything in the past year for at least 10 seconds?

If my clothes could talk (which I’m still working on) they might say something like, “Lady. Choose a size. We’re all jammed in here piled on top of each other. We’re crabby and impatient waiting for you to make up your mind. Oh yeah, while you’re at it, make a decision. Is it still sweater weather or have we moved on?”

I hate when my wardrobe sounds more intelligent than me.

OK, I’m too humble a human being than to brag about loosing 30 pounds effortlessly, but if I was, I might say something like, “Nah nah nanah nah.” Curious? Send me your savings account password, and I’ll gleefully reveal the secret.

What could be more bittersweet than plucking clothes from a closet with new tags still attached because they’re overgrown? The cheapo in me is using my fingers to add up damage control. On the other hand, it’s a pretty sweet exchange to see less of me.

Here’s the thing. Closet cleaning requires a decision mindset. “Am I going to stay this size?” According to my subconscious, the answer is yes. At least that’s what my subconscious is telling me today. Check back with me tomorrow though and my subconscious may change its mind.

So let’s forget my lack of my organizational skills for a minute, and I’ll divulge several possible reasons for my weight loss. A. Desired wedding weight. In three weeks, I’m going to be waltzing down the aisle clutching one arm of my future son-in-law whose mother will be holding onto the other. And until I look remotely like Carrie Underwood or drop 15 years, it just might be compare and contrast time. But hey, ladies, we all know we never compare ourselves to anyone less than a goddess, right?

Now let’s consider possibility B. I’ve been watching too much Oprah with intense interest on her guests discussing the worthiness of the almighty focus board. Some of us with less than perfect attention spans make focus boards to keep us on task. Basically an FB is a poster board designed with pictures of all the things we wish, excuse me, WILL attract into our lives. For starters, I stapled up a picture of a woman runner with a caption reading ”From size 14 to 6.”

Honestly, I never imagined for a moment, that dang focus board would actually obey me. Whatever. I mean, come on, I also put up a picture of Kevin Costner, and thus far, he’s a no show. Furthermore, can you believe he hasn’t had the decency to at least call and ask me to please take him off my focus board?

Well, it’s back to my closet for another round of elimination. Hey, I’m kicking clutter at any cost.