One weird thing about being a stay-at-home mom is that I rarely have a reason to wear real clothes anymore. Up until March, my morning routine always involved getting ready to leave the house — choosing something to wear, accessorizing, making my hair presentable — but now my morning routine involves diapers, cat food, and usually some spit-up. Not so much opportunity for blow-drying and wearing makeup.

Today’s outfit: a nursing cami and a pair of leggings I bought at Loft when I was pregnant and that are now two sizes too big. And of course my very chic post-yoga ponytail-and-headband combo! A far cry from the cute dresses, sweaters and boots I used to wear to work. (I’m not sure cashmere or pumps have much place in my wardrobe at the moment.)

This means that I take every opportunity to leave the house as, basically, an opportunity to dress up. I often feel better about myself when I’m, you know, wearing actual clothes that aren’t meant for exercising or lounging, and that actually fit me well. But the problem with THIS is that despite the fact that I am actually several pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight, I still struggle to find clothes that fit.

I miss you.

My body shape is much different now than it used to be. Extra pounds and loose skin on my belly mean most of last year’s shirts are still unflattering and clingy; most of my pants that fit in the waist sag in the hips, and those that fit through the hips and thighs are too tight in the waist. So in some ways, I’m actually relieved that I have the ability to wear those aforementioned too-big Loft leggings, instead of trying to put together professional outfits made up of the five articles of clothing I have that actually fit my body right now. But at the same time, I get tired of wearing gaucho pants from Old Navy day in and day out, simply because those are the only things I have that work.

And while I wear those leggings and gauchos every day, I have bins and bins of clothes that don’t fit me!! It’s kind of ironic. They’re there, just kind of teasing me.

But the other weird thing about these bins and bins of clothes is that not only do they not fit me, but … a lot of them have no place in my life anymore. The gold skirt there is a wool herringbone pencil skirt from J.Crew. Unless I wear it to church every week all winter, it’s not going to get much use out of my closet — and yet, I don’t want to get rid of it! Same with the green tweed skirt up there and several other pieces that remind me of my professional days. What am I supposed to do with them? There’s even a suit hanging in my closet that I will probably never wear again (whenever I need to interview for a job again, I somehow harbor doubts that I will fit into it).

It is just interesting to me that my life has changed so completely since April — all the way down to my wardrobe. I know I am not destined to an endless future of yoga pants (as much as I love them!), but seeing these bins of clothes waiting for a day that will never come is a little weird. They belong to another person’s life. They’re like artifacts from my past, from the person I used to be.

I suppose I could spend my days at home wearing my nice heels, skirts, and dress pants, but that’s not the life I have anymore, and seeing all my old clothes brought that point home to me today. I guess I am going to have to figure out a new sense of style — starting with some machine-washable fabrics!

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