This weekend I got rid of about 20 per cent of the crap in my closet. And it felt FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC. Included in the purge: every pair of high heels that hurts my feet, anything beige, a briefcase that I hate, and pretty lace underwear that I love but is TOO SMALL. Because, really, who needs a daily reminder that your ass used to be smaller?
That crap was bringing me down. Harshing my mellow. Killing my vibe. So I got rid of it.
Also pitched (or donated):
- That misguided peplum tank top that makes me look like a chubby adult Shirley Temple.
- All the stuff I say I'm going to take to a tailor but never take to a tailor.
- Bland, boxy business attire that makes me feel like a corporate mannequin.
- Anything that doesn't fit. Except for that one blazer.
- Four scarves I've had for a decade but have NEVER WORN. This means I have lovingly packed them into moving boxes THREE times...yet never worn them. Gone. Finally.
- Two pairs of beautiful ballet flats that are a half size too small and pinch my feet.
- Six purses (I know, right?!).
Having purged part of my shoe and handbag collection, nothing was off limits. I moved to the bathroom:
That designer perfume that makes me sneeze? Gone. Same for the expensive face cream that makes my face look like Exxon Valdez. Goodbye to all of the ugly make-up that any MAC or Clinique lady ever talked me into.
My precious bookshelves were next. I ditched:
- A book by a wise spiritual leader that I've tried to read about a hundred times but just. can't. get. into. So much for enlightenment.
- About 50 other books.
- I did not touch my extensive collection of O Magazine back issues. Because nobody fucks with Oprah. Plus, I need those to make vision boards. Obviously.
I even cleaned out the fridge. Oh, hello butternut squash soup from four weeks ago. At least I think that's what you are.
Four trips to the donation bin (and one to the garbage chute) later I felt soooo much better. Lighter.
I found permanent homes for the stacks of stuff that were cluttering the kitchen table...without having to Tetris them into already bulging shelves.
I made room for my high school yearbooks. And for books I wrote as a kid (complete with homemade cereal box and wallpaper covers). I'd found them on a recent visit to my mom and dad's. Looking at them makes me smile.
I made room to actually see the lovely things I already have. I can enjoy them more when my vision isn't cluttered with stuff I don't even like.
I made space. Not just so I can fill it up again (though I can easily think 10 books I want), but space for the sake of space. Space to breathe. Space to just...be. Because space feels good.
Where can you create more space in your life? Your home? Your desk? Your schedule? Do it.
Published at Careergasm.
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