Begone, maternity wear!

Putting away your pregnancy jeans because they’re finally too big is a beautiful day.

Bye bye fat pants

There’s something so satisfying about getting your maternity wear the hell out of your wardrobe.  After months hunting down the perfect clothes to avoid an unfortunate belly-spilling-out-of-top incident, you take great delight in chucking them, one by one, out of your post-pregnancy existence.

Once the maternity wear is gone – or on the way out – you feel like a whole new woman emerging from a cocoon.   And this new woman has a powerful urge to shop up a storm.  You want to express your style and individuality after being an incubator.  But instead of going on a blind sales binge, I’m going to stop and think.

As I discard the jumbo jeans and big top tents, I’m doing a full wardrobe overhaul.  I’ve set myself some rules.  They are harsh but strangely satisfying to implement.

There will be no new purchases until:

1.  I complete all the fiddly mending, adjusting and cleaning that I’ve been shoving to the back of my to do list for months. OK, years.  Unravelling hems, rips in jeans and boots with holey soles must be dealt with first. My mother would be proud.

2. Every drawer is be emptied, vacuumed out and re-arranged.  Like will be put with like, and there will be order where chaos previously reigned.  This is boring, but once it’s done, dressing becomes an efficient exercise instead of a search and rescue mission.

3.  Saggy, ill fitting and ill-advised purchases will be laid to rest.  Or in some cases, where the fabric warrants a second life, added to my sewing collection for future deconstruction and repurposing. New frontiers of wardrobe space will suddenly open up when these articles shuffle off into retirement.

4.  An inventory of what is left is undertaken.  I had thought the 80:20 rule would apply, but there’s no way I wear 20% of it 80% of the time – more like 2% of it 98% of the time.  Question is, does this tell me I have too little of what I need, or far more than I actually require?

5. A harsh assessment of physique is undertaken.  The time for honesty is now, and it’s a rude, rude thing.  There will be no new purchases until my smallest jeans fit sans muffin top.  Watching reality shows featuring very large people should help this on this one. More celery, anyone?


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