After a bad night's sleep (once again featuring nightmares!), I woke up and got started on the rest of the plastic bin drawers.  And here be dragons.  A goddamned shirt, combined with that nightmare touched off a crying jag this morning. But the less said about it, the better, so into the Go-Away Bag it went.

There was lingerie: tights, stockings, corsets a few bras and nightgowns, some other shirts, leggings and socks. So many socks. For someone who wears plain white athletic socks almost exclusively, I sure have a lot of socks that aren't plain or white.  I matched up the socks, rolled all of the tights and stockings, and made some decisions about the shirts.  Several items still have the tags on them, because I tend to not take the tags off clothes until I'm actually going to wear them. Perhaps it's my way of attempting not to take ownership of the [too many] things that I buy during random bouts of retail therapy, especially clearance items or things bought because they were on sale and there was a super deal.

There was the shirt I bought because, velvet.  Every damn time I put that shirt on I'd stroke the velvet, walk past the mirror and realize that my bra straps would be showing through the sheer lace yoke. Strapless bras made my shape look weird in it.  And so I'd take it off again and put it back in the drawer, never to be worn. A similar one had a completely sheer back that would not only show my bra but also my fat rolls.   There was the fancy Lane Bryant lace shirt that I bought on a trip I won in a sweepstakes. Then there was the bra with sugar skulls on them.  Right cup size, wrong band size (way too big), bought with the idea "what if I get fatter again?". Which is probably why I keep half of the clothes I do. My size has changed from 24W to 14 and it's now back to 16 or 18. There's always that niggling thought in the back of my mind, "what if I get fatter again?", and it makes getting rid of clothes so, so difficult.

Day 2

Any stockings, socks, tights, or leggings with holes or runs went straight into the trash.

The things mentioned above.
Buh-bye to the vinyl-topped thigh-high fishnets I would never wear (Hot Topic sale with a coupon).
A really tatty corset that I picked up at a clothing exchange. (It could have been the basis for a costume or something.)
Yet another PolyCon shirt.
A cute top that is just a tad too small.
A pair of striped trousers (of which I have a duplicate) with a small tear I will never ever mend.
A t-shirt from a tech company I have no connection to.
A pair of ivory chiffon scarves with beaded velvet panels that I thought I would make something out of (all I did was get them dirty).
A sheer lace nightgown (too big, too sheer)
A couple of tank tops (one men's and one women's)
More wrong sized bras, including some sports bras (which are both too large AND too small at the same time, because my body is talented like that)
A shirt my best friend gave me. It's a beautiful Lane Bryant maroon long-sleeved stretchy top that feels wonderful, but is, alas, much too big, and I can't justify keeping it when I'm sure it'll make someone else very happy. (Which is the only way I can convince my brain to LET THE FUCK GO of some things.)
.

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Cyrano de Univac

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