No, this is not a post about bulimia. It's about spring cleaning. Yesterday, instead of cooking or baking (OK, I did bake a loaf of bread), I rid myself of a lot of junk I didn't need and organized some things that I needed to keep. Some of it was paper-just old bills and junk mail I had never bothered to throw out--but some of it was clothing, and going through the closet was painful for me because I was taught never to throw clothing away.
I grew up in a working class family that was constantly teetering on the brink of poverty. We kept and used everything until it was falling apart, so I feel very guilty if I throw out clothing before it's in tatters. However, I constantly have to remind myself that I'm not poor any more (I'm not rich, either, but I'm doing OK). So now my litmus test for deciding whether to throw something out is, "Is this fit to donate to charity?" If the answer is no, then the item has to go.
One of the things I finally tossed yesterday was this old cotton sweater that I loved. I bought it when I was in college, and it held up well for many years. But I finally had to admit that it was beyond repair--it had a big ink stain on one sleeve, a hole in the back, and it was completely stretched out. There are probably a few more things I should've tossed, but they aren't irreparable yet and could still be donated to charity--so I'll keep wearing them myself. If you ignore my neuroses and call it shabby chic or wabi sabi, then my old clothes are downright fashionable!
I grew up in a working class family that was constantly teetering on the brink of poverty. We kept and used everything until it was falling apart, so I feel very guilty if I throw out clothing before it's in tatters. However, I constantly have to remind myself that I'm not poor any more (I'm not rich, either, but I'm doing OK). So now my litmus test for deciding whether to throw something out is, "Is this fit to donate to charity?" If the answer is no, then the item has to go.
One of the things I finally tossed yesterday was this old cotton sweater that I loved. I bought it when I was in college, and it held up well for many years. But I finally had to admit that it was beyond repair--it had a big ink stain on one sleeve, a hole in the back, and it was completely stretched out. There are probably a few more things I should've tossed, but they aren't irreparable yet and could still be donated to charity--so I'll keep wearing them myself. If you ignore my neuroses and call it shabby chic or wabi sabi, then my old clothes are downright fashionable!
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