The downside of losing weight is that the outfits that I bank on wearing for special occasions or even for certain cleaning tasks just don’t fit any more. We’ve been together for quite some time, my clothes and I, and it’s hard to part with the stable of dependable choices.
So I make myself remember.
The school where I taught, in Texas, back when my children were younger, was having a sale, and I was shocked at the beauty of an item that one woman donated.
“You’re donating that?” I asked.
She said, “I am. I had it, and I loved it, and it was a blessing to me. And now I’m going to let it be a blessing to somebody else.”
And now, when I am reluctant to part with something — clothes I loved but have undergrown, books or toys that no longer interest anyone in our home, things that I bought in error or that don’t quite fit the need I got them for — my husband will encourage me to donate it. “Let it be a blessing to somebody else, ” he says, with a Texan twang.
And, may it be so.