An end, of sorts

I know I have said couuuntless times that this year would be the year of no more topshop, h and m and zara, and more jigsaw, toast and whistles (when they have sales on, obvooo), but didn't for one second think it would be this easy to stick to. On Friday, R and I hit Topshop in celebration of the fact that she had finished and we had a lovely garden/cocktail/friends/sunshiney event sort of thing to go to, but she had nothing to wear. I wasn't looking for anything, but was definitely expecting various things to just magically turn up as they always seem to. And yet nothing, and I mean NOTHING did. Everything felt cheap, looked like it belonged on a 16 year-old, and just was deeply, deeply 'un-me'. The one high point of the shop was that for the first time in 3 years I could actually fit into a pair of trousers there, which was rather fun and involved alot of shrieking and strange 'wahooo wahoo we are REUNITED, you have lost 2 stone, you can fit into topshop size 14 not that you EVEN CARE' dancing in the changing room. R couldn't really believe it. 'But you ALWAYS find something in topshop' she said, looking puzzled and slightly lost. And I always used to. Something which didn't quite fit, something which didn't quite work, but which zipped up, which was all i really cared about for most of last year. Because none of the clothes I loved, which were patiently waiting at home stuffed in my bottom drawer, would zip up. So I bought unflattering tea dresses from topshop and made alot of noise about buying lots of them, hoping that people would fail to notice me and notice the clothes and the false 'fabulousness oh i love to BUY things I am like the CARRIE OF OXFORD, so happy with all my THINGS oh yes oh yes but PLEASE DON'T NOTICE WHAT IS GOING ON UNDERNEATH THIS BECAUSE IT IS A VERY DIFFERENT STORY' instead. It feels so wonderful to be wearing my old clothes again, the ones I really love and bought because I loved them, rather than because they fitted.

Last week other R and I cleared out my entire wardrobe. There are currently 3 bin bags filled with things waiting to be taken to the charity shop. I still have plenty of clothes - we played the 'what would you wear to...' game and every scenario was catered for, which is both impressive and sliightly embarassing. Everything in my wardrobe make me feel lovely, light, happy and confident, and anything that made me feel even slightly squirmy was immediately chucked. My mother is over the moon, Daddy was completely puzzled by the whole process - he kept popping his head round the door at various stages and just sighing, whilst R (who at times I fear he loves more than me) told him firmly that 'the piles are all part of the process!!It won't look like this when I've finished with her!!', but I digress - and I feel like it was the perfect ending to my weight loss journey (ACCCCKKKKKKK criiiiinge, BUT THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO PUT IT..). Obviously, the journey isn't over - I am not going back to the daily chocolate bars, the drinking, the cheesy chips or the daily croissants, but I feel I have got to a place where I feel safe, happy and ready for..er...action. As it were..

Xxxx