The Great Shoe Purge of Aught-Seven

I cleaned out my closet today.  It was a rather more optimistic occurrence than the last time I did this -- which was when I'd put on a ton of weight and tossed all my "thin clothes" in an act of acceptance.  Of course, I subsequently a lot of the weight -- which is terrific -- and now I don't have any thin clothes to wear.  I'm still not sorry I did it, though.  I think I needed to really accept that I was fat, and throw out all the clothes that were nowhere near fitting, in order to motivate myself to make a change.

Besides, now that I've lost the weight, I can buy myself a whole bunch of new clothes.

So, today's closet purge, from the clothing point of view, was rather more fun, as I packed up lots of stuff that was now too big to wear.  I mean, on the one hand, great that I have to pin the waistbands of my skirts.  On the other hand, y'know, probably shouldn't walk around the office with my skirts obviously pinned.  It lacks a certain ... professionalism.  So, all the too big stuff goes into storage.  (Just in case I need it again.)

But the real come-face-to-face-with-reality part of tonight's event was the throwing out of the shoes.  Now, I spent six weeks of this year in a damn "Frankenboot" aircast.  And a lot more time wearing various and sundry ankle braces.  And, you know what?  After all that time in the aircast, my ankle was better -- and then I wore the wrong pair of shoes and it went out again, pretty much killing six freakin' weeks in a stormtrooper boot in one day.  It isn't worth it -- I don't care how cute the damn shoes are, they've got to go.  So, the mules that put too much stress on the ankle -- tossed.  Also anything with a strap that inconveniently presses against the weak point -- tossed.  Come to think of it, all those pumps with the pointy heel that it's really easy to lose balance on and twist the ankle again -- gone, gone, gone and gone.  The boots that I was wearing when I twisted the ankle in the first place -- exactly why am I still keeping those?  And while I'm at it, the few pair of shoes that are actually a 1/2-size too big that I was talked into by some salesdude who said I could get by with sticking an insert under the insole -- gone as well.  Life's too short (and ankle is too fragile) to mess around with shoes that don't fit.  And of the few remaining pairs ... yeah, the ones with all the leather rubbed off in spots?  Time to replace them, too.

By the time I was done, I had more than half of my shoes in the trash pile.  And totally accepted that I have an officially wonky ankle that I'm just going to have to make some adjustments for.

... good thing I'm planning to hit the mall this weekend.