Clothes

My clothes don’t fit anymore. I like getting dressed. Scratch that. I LOVE getting dressed in the morning. In fact, I love it so much that I spend an hour or more every Sunday putting together outfits for my week… Mixing… Matching… Accessorizing… Sigh… That way I can roll outta bed at 7:15, roll out the door by 7:45 and still look cute – or, at the very least, feeling cute. That is how it seemed to go so far.
Then this week happened. It is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because I have external evidence that this is happening peeps. I’m getting smaller. Things are changing! Curse because my closet is shrinking by the day. It is only Wednesday and I’ve already thrown five articles of clothing (three shirts, two skirts) into the too big for Tamara pile. These are things I thought still fit me and planned to wear this week, but when I put them on it looked like I was wearing sails or something! So my time saver has been a big tricker this week, making me create three last minute outfits at 7:35 when I still needed to put my make up on and do my hair! (I wore braids today, that was my level of lateness.)
Ah well. Could be worse. I could be digging my bigger clothes out of storage instead of needing to buy smaller ones. I’m finally at a point that I don’t have any more goal clothes. I fit all of the “tiny” things I have bought over the years. I’m not that impressed with my spoils, truth be told. My style has changed some. Things fit different than I expected.
Guess it’s time to buy a few things. Awwww shucks.
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Funny note- I almost forgot to write this next part. That shows me how normalized this whole exercise thing is becoming….
I went out and ran a mile today and walked another .7. Finally, my tracker went untouched and unbumped and I got a decent read on my mile. I ran it in 11:35. I’m pleased with that. There is definitely room for improvement, but I’m forgiving myself for feeling a little sore and tuckered today. I think I’m going to take this weekend off from exercise to get another good rest/heal in. I’m starting to feel battered.
I tied a ribbon from Martha to my wrist today in place of the heavy retractable leash. It seemed to work fine. She is such a good girl and I know she is fine off leash, but as a person who is scared of big dogs, I hate to make other people uncomfortable so I keep her tied up. I love having her as my running mate. It’s nice to have her there to ‘motivate’ up the hills and to the next goal. “C’mon Martha! Keep it going! Atta girl! Good puppy.” I’m not sure who needs to hear those words more, her or me.