Do You Look in the Mirror?

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I’ve been eliminating a lot of clothes from my wardrobe based on how they fit. If pants or shorts fall down and a belt is not an option, I simply can’t wear them. With my weight consistently going down, this has been the case with a number of items. But then there are the things I’m eliminating based on how they look: my black camis, my J. Crew 3X T-shirts, a Hanes V-neck tee. Today I looked in the mirror and realized that my linen pants look huge and really don’t fit right anymore. And that’s where I decided to draw the line.

These pants are still hanging on comfortably in the waist, they’re roomy and airy, I love the fabric, and they’re perfect in this heat. I also love the wide-leg style and the muted color. I like that they go well with both sneakers and boots. But the real clincher is how they feel. In terms of tactile pleasure, these pants just feel so good. The fabric weight and texture, the roomy and billowy quality to them- that’s way more important to me than how they look in the mirror. So now that I’m in this in-between phase with my weight- not at the point where I fit into the majority of my clothes (that’s still 20 pounds and at least 4 months away) but not at the point where my bigger items fit either- I’m trying to just make do with whatever works best regardless of how it looks in the mirror. This all makes me question- should I even be looking in the mirror in the first place?

When I look in the mirror, I tend to be self-critical. First I look at myself from the front. At best I give myself a nod of approval- nothing looks too tight, I like the drape of things, and I find my outfit “flattering.” But then I turn to the side, like in a mug shot, and the criticism begins. “I look like a mountain” is my usual thought. My stomach sticks out, my neck and chin look pudgy and thick. And then I throw up my hands and resign myself to the idea that “I’m just fat” and start in with some negative self-talk. The crazy thing is that this criticism doesn’t stop at any certain weight. It certainly hasn’t reduced as my weight has over the past several months. Even when I was at my thinnest I remember how I would judge my flabby belly and try to conceal it strategically with clothing. This is clearly a problem that will not go away by simply losing weight. So I wonder about this critical voice when I look in the mirror. I wonder how much of that voice is just my internalized male gaze.

There is a theory that as women in this society, we have learned to look at ourselves through the lens of how men see us, through the lens of the male gaze. I suspect that this is what is happening when I judge myself in the mirror. I try to think of ways to get around these thoughts so I can focus on my personal style, so I can just focus on the clothes. But I don’t know if this male gaze is escapable, no matter what our own personal fashion aesthetic happens to be.

There is something about wearing men’s clothes that seems to override this judgemental part of my brain- I love how my men’s pants, boots, and belt look and feel. That says to me that by dressing as a man, I am circumventing the image of myself as a woman and thereby disengaging my own male gaze. And that seems to keep the judgements from persisting. So I love wearing men’s clothes. I feel better about myself when I do. But it’s the height of summer and it’s just more practical to wear lighter clothes, more traditionally feminine clothes. And since I can’t seem to shut off that criticism when I’m in feminine clothes, I’ve made a decision. As someone who loves fashion, who really enjoys the aesthetics of clothing, and who chooses clothing at least partly based on how it looks, I’ve decided that for the time being, I’m not going to worry about what I look like in the mirror.

Because I don’t want to spend my life looking for men’s approval, trying to look like someone men want to have sex with. That’s just not what I’m going for. I’m trying to develop my own style, to home in on what I authentically like to see in the mirror. I’m trying to dress for myself and not for other people. I like to think that dressing for myself can include enjoying the appearance of clothing. But it’s hard to tell when the male gaze is having a say- especially because its voice can sound like your own.

I saw a YouTube video the other day that suggested various “styling tricks” to make you look more fashionable or “chic” (cuffing your jeans, wearing a belt, tucking your shirt in in the front, wearing jewelry). I looked at the Before and After shots of the outfits and strongly identified with the Before. Basic shirt and pants, shirt not tucked in, no jewelry, no shape. And I wondered if these “tricks” could help me look better. But then I wondered what exactly “better” meant. Does it mean I conform more to what my authentic, personal aesthetic is? Or does it mean looking like someone men want to have sex with? Or does it mean looking like a woman on Instagram who wants to look like someone men want to have sex with?

It’s hard to deconstruct these things. Aesthetically, I preferred the shirt tucked in in front. I’m pretty sure that’s in line with my own personal opinion. When I wear my men’s pants with a belt and I tuck my shirt in in the front, I like how I look a little bit more. It doesn’t feel like I’m succumbing to the patriarchy. But what about jewelry? Does wearing jewelry make me more attractive to men? Perhaps. But what matters is taking that out of the equation and figuring out how I think it looks. How it looks in my own mind, in my own little world of style that has nothing to do with gaining mainstream approval or attracting men. In my own little world, I love my linen pants even if they’re not very “flattering.” I still love my J. Crew T-shirts because they’re soft and comfortable and lightweight, even though they’re not my size. I love the drape of my black camis and the way they feel against my skin even if they’re too big. None of these things would make it into the After category of a styling video, but I’ll wear them all the same (okay, maybe not the camis- I don’t want to flash anyone). And I’ll consider this time, this in-between-sizes time, as an opportunity to let myself go. To explore how I want clothes to feel and let go of how they look. Because I think how things feel is often overlooked in the name of style. I still care about how clothes look- I love fashion and I don’t feel bad about it. But sometimes it’s good to just take a break from the mirror and ask some tough questions. It can’t hurt.

It's Not Easy Being In-Between

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Well, I don’t know how this happened, but most of my clothes don’t fit. I started removing pants and shorts from my wardrobe because they were too big, and I got down to 3 pairs: a pair of grey flannel-type men’s pants that require a belt (not ideal for summer), a pair of black skinny jeans that are too dressy for everyday, and a pair of wide-leg, linen-blend, elastic-waist pants that I’m just wearing every day at this point. It’s the middle of summer, and they’re comfortable and cool. I tried to buy another similar pair from Old Navy, but they came in the mail and they just don’t work. The fabric is this heavy, textured stuff that doesn’t breathe at all- very weird for linen-blend pants. I also seem to fall somewhere in between a L and an XL in Old Navy sizing (I ordered both sizes of pants to try). The shorts I recently determined were too big are Old Navy XL, but my Old Navy L shorts in storage are way too small. Go figure. In any case, the linen pants are going back.

In my further editing down of my wardrobe, I also eliminated two black camisoles for being too big, hanging on to all 9 T-shirts, but I’m thinking some of them have reached that tipping point of being too big. I don’t know how it happens; one day something’s fine, and the next day it’s not. And so I’m sad to say that my beloved J. Crew T-shirts have crossed over. I’ve been contentedly wearing them, enjoying how lightweight and soft they are, even enjoying the oversized fit, and then today everything changed. I had one on as I tried out a pair of jeans from storage and it looked way too big. The shirts are a 3X, which I know is not my proper size anymore, but something about seeing them with fitted jeans made it impossible to go back to wearing them. I was fiddling around with my smaller clothes in storage, trying to come up with some more options for summer bottoms. I rather optimistically pulled out a pair of size 12 skinny jeans (I have 3 pairs; two are size 10, and then these ones are a 12). And they fit pretty well. Because they have a skinny ankle, they won’t work with my logger boots, but in this heat I’ve been wearing my Adidas sneakers more and more anyway and I think they’d look OK with the jeans. Then I pulled out a white midi skirt that stretches enough to fit, but I would have to shave my legs in order to feel comfortable wearing it (I’ve kind of been letting that slide). It would be good in the heat, work well with sneakers and an ASOS T-shirt, and still give me a look that fits my current aesthetic. We’ll see about the leg-shaving, but I did hang it in my closet for now. So that gives me two more casual summer bottoms to work with, which means I don’t have to hang out in my underwear waiting for the linen pants to be washed and dried.

So I’ve found a couple of awkward bits to tide me over while I’m at this weight (181.6 at my last weigh-in), but I can’t believe I just don’t have more options. I really thought I’d saved enough pieces to get through every phase of weight loss, but I guess I somehow skipped this part. Maybe I was just wearing the grey joggers as I was gaining the weight; I kind of remember them being too big and wearing them anyway. Those are currently on the outs, partly for being too big, partly because they’re so unflattering, and partly because they’re too hot for summer. For tops, my GAP Factory T-shirts (I have 4 of them) are fitting the best right now. They were salvaged from the donate pile a few months back after a change of heart. Maybe those are what I was wearing for tops as I was on the way up in weight? Maybe that was also a time when I just wasn’t leaving the house very much anyway. I had come home early from Germany, crashing hard from my Adderall losing its punch. I was doing some Ebay and then Skyping with Matt 87 hours a day, which means I did end up with plenty of pajama pants for this weight. They’re fairly useless in the heat right now, but they do fit me perfectly.

Speaking of crashing hard, I’m still having trouble with early evenings- those in-between hours after going to the cafe but before we eat dinner and watch a TV show. These crashes are really rough- yesterday I was even having some vaguely suicidal thoughts- and it feels like they’ll never end when I’m in the middle of them. I was trying to get some activities going for these times of day: meditation, walking, OA meetings, etc., but I’ve kind of lost my mojo in that department. I’m making a concerted effort to get to an OA meeting tonight, actually planning my whole day around it. Because it really does me no good to lie in the dark. I know this already. I’ve said so before, but it’s a really hard habit to break. What happens is I feel tired and like I deserve a rest, so I lie down, but I cannot rest. Thoughts of “how horrible my life is” start flooding in and I start ruminating: What could I have done differently in the past? What should I be doing now? Why am I not doing it? It’s too late for me to get anywhere with anything because I’m too old and too out of it. It’s the same old story every day. And then we have dinner and my mood improves, and I’m fun to be around. It’s just that in-between time that sucks. Because I’m feeling good earlier at the cafe too. (I hate the gym in the morning, but who doesn’t? It’s like brushing your teeth for an hour).

So tonight, I’ll try again. I’ll try to get ahead of that crash and have a place to go where I feel comfortable and focused. I’ve also started a meditation practice, sitting for 20 minutes at night. I kind of hate it- it’s also like brushing your teeth- but I’ve done it for about 10 days or so. The goal is 30 days, every day, but I screwed up and missed it yesterday. So it’s 29 days, and then that one day I missed it. Hey, I’m trying.

Sunscreen Meltdown

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I had a bit of a skincare meltdown today. I’ve been trying out two new products since coming home from Germany: Elta MD 45, a sunscreen my dermatologist recommended, and Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser. And my skin doesn’t like it. I started applying sunscreen in the mornings last month while in Germany and had no problems with it at all. I was using La Roche-Posay 50+ sunscreen (purchased on a previous trip to Germany), then washing it off with either Burt’s Bees Cucumber Wipes or some Nivea milky cleanser. But this new Elta MD sunscreen is a little drier, and this Cetaphil cleanser is not as effective. So somewhere in combination with my Dr. Hauschka products, I’ve been getting these bumps. Not pimples exactly, just tiny bumps everywhere- along my jawline, on my forehead, near my nose. My first thought was that it must be the sunscreen. So I went online to order some more La Roche-Posay. I knew it wasn’t cheap, and it was a much smaller bottle, but I found some on sale for $23. The La Roche-Posay from Germany was really moisturizing, left no white cast (as some mineral sunscreens do), and washed off pretty easily with the wipes or the milky cleanser. I was excited when my new bottle arrived, though a little confused by the different shape of the bottle and the different SPF number on it. But it was the closest thing I could find to what I had, so I figured it was fine. I spread it on my face and went to leave the house but was met with a shocked expression from my husband. My face had such a significant white cast that I looked a little blue. I ran back into the bathroom, trying to rub it in more, but my skin started peeling and just added to the problem. It was like the sunscreen was drying out my skin instead of moisturizing it like I expected it to- like it had when I was in Germany. And so I discovered that this formulation was completely different. The bottle my husband got me in Germany was wonderful, never breaking me out and giving me a nice glow. But this U.S. version of the same product was a disaster. I washed my face with water. I washed my face with Cetaphil. I washed my face with a Neutrogena makeup wipe and then rinsed my face with water again. I felt like I still had residue left behind. I left my face alone for a day until it fully recovered, but I feel like I’m back to square one. I’m going to try the Elta MD again, but this time wash it off with the Burt’s Bees wipes instead of the Cetaphil in hopes that it’s not the sunscreen that’s the problem, but the Cetaphil. Maybe it’s not washing all the sunscreen off?

I’ll have to spend more time and money figuring this out, and that’s not a process I’m used to. I use only a few beauty products in general and I’ve never had to shop around for skincare. Dr. Hauschka was recommended to me, and it worked great with my skin. I guess I was just lucky. But I wanted to start wearing sunscreen so my skin wouldn’t get any more damaged than it already is (I spent a lot of hours running in the sun the last couple years with zero patience for sunscreen). I thought I was doing the right thing by wearing sunscreen and I’ve just ended up wasting money. That’s $11 for Cetaphil, $26 for Elta MD, and then $23 for the awful American La Roche-Posay. I’m going to try and return that one, since it’s from Rite-Aid and I think they have that policy where you can return opened beauty products if you don’t like them. But now I’m buying more Burt’s Bees wipes and I’m not even sure that will solve the problem. Plus it would be an expensive solution to permanently stick with the wipes, so I’ll probably be searching for an effective cleanser for the long haul.

Thinking about all this sent me into the bedroom to lie down in the dark with the AC on. I’m just trying to do the right thing. I’m just trying to take better care of myself. But nothing’s ever easy, it seems, skincare included. My capacity for trial and error seems to have worn away over the years. Maybe it’s all the psych meds- trying things out for weeks or months, trying to do the right thing, and then being disappointed when it’s a disaster. Or having a particular medication work for a period of time and then, with no explanation, stop working. Either way, I’m really beginning to understand the plethora of beauty reviewers out there testing these products and reporting back. I thought that going with a pricey brand that I had used before would be a safe bet, but I was wrong. I have much to learn, apparently. I’m sure most women have gone through far more than this in search of skincare products that aren’t a complete horror show. I just never expected to become one of them. I’m a minimalist on a tight budget and these little science experiments take a toll on me. Plus, I feel like I’m late to the party because I spent so many years not taking proper care of myself at all. I’ve spent years without makeup or sunscreen or even consistent use of moisturizer. And I have the dark circles and sun spots to show for it. I worry that my forehead, drawn together in agony from long depressions, will become the permanent shape of my face. I worry that after all this weight loss, my stomach won’t snap back into shape and I’ll be left with loose skin. I worry that I’ve missed my opportunity to prevent these things from happening because I was in a ball on the bed. And while these problems are way less significant than most, my face and body are my identity. Vanity is a perfectly natural part of being human. So while I try to keep things in perspective and push these issues to the back of my mind, ignoring them doesn’t make them any better. So the search for a sunscreen solution will continue. I will try and take care of myself as best I can.

Messy Cleaning

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I don’t even know where to begin. This is what goes through my head every time I even consider doing any household cleaning. I’m all about tidying up- Marie Kondo’s got nothing on me. But when it comes to actually removing dust and dirt from the apartment, I’m at a loss. It just seems like too big a task to even comprehend. I’m extremely fortunate to have a husband who’s not intimidated by vacuum cleaners or bleach and who has taken care of just about all the cleaning for some time. I have managed to hold up my end with laundry and drying dishes and making the bed, but I rarely even cook my own dinner, never mind mow the lawn or mop the floor.

There was an era though, during my Adderall days, when I was pretty much hyperactive. And I really took the bull by the horns with the cleaning. I created charts and lists of cleaning tasks and scheduled them all every week, month, 2 months, or 6 months. I tackled everything from vacuuming lamp shades to wiping down baseboards to washing windows to dry-mopping the walls. I of course enlisted my husband to help with all of these tasks, and he was very tolerant of my pathological perfectionism. But this constant cleaning of rooms that were already quite clean was not a sustainable way of life. I tired of removing everything from the kitchen cabinets and drawers to vacuum the crumbs out and wipe the insides down. My husband tired of dusting light fixtures that weren’t really dusty and pulling out the fridge to vacuum behind it. I was beyond the point of obsessiveness; no one I know could keep that up. And so once the Adderall started to wear off, as amphetamines do, I stopped cleaning altogether.

I went into a deep depression as we tried to figure out better meds, and I had zero energy for dusting or vacuuming or cleaning the shower grout. It all just ground to a halt, and it’s stayed there for the last year and a half or so. I often fantasize about cleaning, watching “Clean With Me” YouTube videos where you watch someone clean their entire house in fast motion. They’re totally absorbing, these videos, bordering on addictive. You get all the satisfaction of cleaning without any of the actual work. I think they’re meant to be motivational but I prefer just watching and not doing anything. As I said, I love tidying, putting things away, throwing things out, donating unwanted gifts to the thrift shop immediately upon receiving them. I think I have this idea that if I tidy everything perfectly, it’ll make cleaning easier. And to some extent, it does, at least for my husband. I never seem able to cross over into actually dusting the bookshelf after organizing it.

But I’ve been studying the way my husband cleans. I refer to his style of cleaning as “messy cleaning.” He doesn’t obsess over making every little thing perfect, he just does a decent job and is done with it. He’ll even hold up the vacuum canister and say, “Look at all that dust we just cleaned up.” Talk about seeing the glass half-full. This is the exact opposite of the way I usually think about cleaning, and it’s the way I think about it that’s a big part of why I don’t do it. I look around frantically for nooks and crannies that aren’t perfectly spotless. I insist on cleaning behind every piece of furniture because the dust I can’t even see bothers me. Then I tiptoe around the place trying not to mess it up. If one of my hairs falls on the floor, I immediately pick it up and throw it in the trash. When I clean my way, it’s ridiculous and impossible to maintain. But this “messy cleaning” perspective seems to be way more realistic and far more effective.

And so yesterday something monumental happened: I helped my husband clean. To pitch in with his apartment-wide vacuuming, I was handed one of those little Swiffer dusters. It’s just a fluffy thing on a hand-held stick, but it goes pretty far with just a spritz of Pledge. So I walked around looking for things to use it on: shelves, picture frames, light fixtures. My husband demonstrated how you can use it to clean our radiators, so I did that. And then I followed him around for a while, picking up shoes or chairs in his way. And that was it. It was over in about an hour and the apartment felt fresh and clean (we saved the kitchen and bathroom for another day). In my compulsive mind, this cleaning effort was a total disaster- there were sure to be things we missed! What about wiping down the light switches? And there was a certain amount of dust kicked up in the air. It was a mess. But it worked. I actually cleaned something, and that was huge.

When you lose confidence in your ability to do things, as is bound to happen in a mental health crisis, it’s really hard to get back on track. I often screamed at myself in my head about how I’m lazy and I should just suck it up and get on top of things. But cleaning turned into a real mental block for me at a certain point, especially after my bout of obsession with it. So this “messy cleaning” idea acted as a gateway for me to at least start doing some cleaning again. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I picked up that Swiffer, worried about how terrible a job I’d do. But my husband was patient enough to get me through it, and my helping out built a tiny bit of confidence in me. So at least it’s a start.

My Shopping Secrets

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I’m an extremely picky shopper. I agonize over purchases when I’m in the store or online, often putting something back that I thought was a sure thing if I don’t really need it. And when I do pull the trigger on an item, I don’t take the tags off right away so I have the option of returning it within the return period. I like to wear the item in real life a bit before making my final decision, and if I realize it was a mistake and I’ve already cut the tags off, I will go so far as to retag the item and return it.

I discovered tagging guns while selling items on Ebay. Sometimes there would be a great thrifted clothing item that still had the original tags on it. But it would smell like the thrift store, so I’d need to spray it with vodka before selling it (vodka is such a great trick to get smells out of ‘dry clean only’ items- it’s odorless and gets rid of that thrift store smell). But I wouldn’t want to get the tags wet, so I’d cut them off and then simply retag the item. The tagging gun was a worthy $10 investment that made reselling easier at times.

And then there are the times that I’ve used the tagging gun on my own clothes. If I was ever hasty in cutting the tags off of something, then wore it for a couple of hours and wanted to return it, out came the tagging gun and voila! - I could return it. I’d always make sure the item was in flawless condition, no deodorant stains to be seen. I mean, I’m not trying to run a scam here. I’m just very, very fickle when it comes to clothes. If something looks great in the dressing room but you get it home and find it cuts in under your arms or rides up as you walk or sit down, I really think it’s best for everyone if you just return it.

I have the same policy with shoes: with my most recent shoe purchases, I walked on the treadmill in each pair I was trying for up to 2 hours at a stretch. With something as expensive as quality shoes, I have to make sure that they won’t hurt my feet or cause blisters. Again, I’d always make sure the shoes were in perfect condition before returning them, but I find this process absolutely necessary before committing to a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes.

And the same goes for online shopping. I always order enough items to get the free shipping and then return what doesn’t fit directly to the store (I usually shop at Old Navy, GAP, LOFT, etc.). There’s pressure from these retailers to order more to get the free shipping, meant to get you to buy (and keep) more clothes. This doesn’t exactly work on me, however. I just order multiple sizes, colors, or even duplicates to make sure I have the luxury of deciding exactly what I want in the privacy of my own home. Aside from trying out different sizes, I am notorious for ordering multiples of an item. This is to make sure that if I really love it, I have the option of buying multiples before my size sells out on the website. I always feel that if it’s that good, I’ll probably want to wear it more often than I can wash it. So it’s common for me to have two of something: two pairs of grey joggers, two pairs of black shorts, two of each T-shirt. A lot of times this exact-duplicate-tendency has to do with the colors offered. I might branch out and buy multiples in different colors, but so often the only good (neutral) colors are black, navy, or grey. I do like a lot of soft, muted colors, but when I find that perfect item, it’s usually only available in black, fuchsia, and neon green. So I just stick to black and black. Because that’ll be the color I reach for most anyway. When I’ve cleaned out my closet in the past, it’s always the neutrals that win out in the end. And when I do buy multiples, I’ll start out wearing one at first, testing the waters to see if two are really necessary- leaving the tags on the unworn item in case I change my mind and only want one. This has turned out to be the case with my black camis that I recently decided we’re too big. I only ever needed to wear one, so the other still has the tags on it. It’s way too late to return it to the store, but having tags on it means it’ll bring in a bit more on Ebay than its untagged counterpart. Often I end up not losing any money from the whole debacle, just the time and hassle of listing the item on Ebay.

My methods are extreme. There’s no doubt about it. But while I may feel guilty shopping at unethical, unsustainable retailers for items on sale, I do deliberate over every single item. I consider it less of a waste to do this- less of a waste of money for me, and less waste when it comes to the environment. Because less clothes end up wasted in the back of my closet, and less clothes are donated and end up in a landfill. Because while I may not be able to afford (or even find in my size) sustainable, ethical options, I can reduce my negative impact by simply buying less.

I also try to reduce my negative impact by buying secondhand. I’m just as careful and deliberate with these purchases as I am with new clothes, so I have my methods for shopping secondhand as well. I like to start off at an expensive department store (counterintuitive, I know). I try on different brands and sizes, noting my usual size in each brand. I jot down favorite brands and even favorite styles. And then I go on Ebay. I look for “new with tags” items in those favorite brands and styles, knowing exactly which sizes will work. That way I know going in if something will fit or not and it saves me the cost and hassle of doing a return. I also check for explicit measurements of items- especially preworn items, since they’ve been washed. Then I measure my favorite T-shirt or jeans or whatever the item is and compare. This gives me a much better idea of fit than wrapping a measuring tape around my body, and I find it far less depressing. I may not have a big budget for clothes, but I do search high and wide for those perfect items. Keeping everything to a capsule wardrobe is something I can do right now to save money and keep waste to a minimum.

Do My Smaller Clothes Fit My New Style?

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With only 23 items in my closet at this point, I’m wondering if it’s time to explore the storage bin again. The last time I opened it up was May 2nd, so it’s been well over two months and more than 10 pounds down. But before I dig into it, I thought I’d make an objective evaluation of whether or not those items will fit into my new, more masculine aesthetic. I did this for my current wardrobe and found it really interesting and helpful for choosing clothes going forward. I want to maintain my style as I continue to lose weight and not fall into the trap of wearing more revealing clothing “because I can.” I do not want my body size to dictate what I do or do not wear. To keep myself in check and stay true to my personal preferences, I rated each item on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the least desirable and 10 the most. The criteria I took into consideration are the same as when I looked at my current capsule:

  1. Is this item objectifying? (Bad)

  2. Is this item revealing? (Also bad)

  3. Is this item feminine? (Sometimes bad)

  4. Is this item infantilizing? (A hard no)

  5. Do I like how this item looks? (Usually a good thing)

  6. Would I feel comfortable in this item at a social occasion or in public in general? (Also good)

  7. Does this attract the wrong kind of attention? (Hard to explain, but a bad thing)

  8. Is there a context to consider? (What do I wear it with?)

  9. Does this item look like it’s men’s? (Usually good)

Here’s the list and pics of items with their scores, from high to low, with some explanation in parentheses:

  • Blue wide leg pants 10 (loose, minimal, could be men’s)

  • Cream wide leg pants 10 (loose, minimal, could be men’s)

  • Camel cashmere cardigan 10 (loose, could be men’s)

  • Cowboy studded belt 10 (wide, real leather, large buckle, is actually men’s)

  • Black Ponte swing top 10 (boxy shape, thick material, minimal)

  • Navy Ponte swing top 10 (boxy shape, thick material, minimal)

  • Two black tuxedo joggers 10 (loose, menswear-inspired)

  • Black asymmetric sweater 10 (oversized, modern high neckline)

  • Grey zip-up cardigan 10 (structured shoulders, heavy knit)

  • Floral wedding kimono 9 (loose, heavy fabric, modest)

  • Navy blouson blouse 9 (loose, long sleeve, high neckline)

  • Black blouson blouse 9 (loose, long sleeve, high neckline)

  • White open cardigan 9 (long sleeve, loose)

  • Blush boxy sweater 9 (boxy shape, loose)

  • Black boxy sweater 9 (boxy shape in body, tight arms)

  • Two black scoop neck tees 9 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Two white scoop neck tees 9 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Floral print tunic 9 (long, loose, not too feminine floral)

  • Grey pointelle cardigan 8 (pointelle pattern, loose, long sleeve)

  • Leather black belt 8 (wide, real leather, large buckle)

  • Grey banded hem tee 8 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Green banded hem tee 8 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Two white ballet neck tees 8 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Two light blue ballet neck tees 8 (loose, feminine neckline)

  • Black cropped swing raincoat 7 (loose, feminine shape, cropped, high neckline)

  • Navy tulip-hem blouse 7 (high neckline, revealing hem at back)

  • Pink cashmere sweater 7 (high neckline, long sleeves, feminine color)

  • White pencil skirt 6 (modest length, tight, can be worn with sneakers and oversized top)

  • Black skinny jeans (size 12) 6 (slouchy fit, black color gives them edge)

  • Silk feather-print tank 6 (loose, sleeveless, edgy print)

  • Black utility shorts 6 (fairly revealing and short, loose, utilitarian)

  • Navy utility shorts 6 (fairly revealing and short, loose, utilitarian)

  • Black pencil skirt 6 (modest length, tight, can be worn with loose top)

  • Black skinny jeans (size 14W) 6 (slouchy fit, black color gives them edge)

  • Long white parka 5 (puffy, distinct hourglass shape, high collar, longline)

  • Two pairs skinny jeans (size 10) 5 (tapered ankle is more feminine, slouchy fit)

  • One pair skinny jeans (size 12) 5 (tapered ankle is more feminine, slouchy fit)

  • White sheer hi-lo tunic 4 (sheer, floaty, swing shape, hi-lo hem, very feminine)

  • Black silky cami 4 (revealing, loose)

  • Striped silky cami 4 (revealing, loose)

  • Skinny braided belt 4 (skinny width is more feminine, flimsy weight)

  • Cotton A-line cami 3 (semi-sheer, revealing, feminine cut, loose)

  • Green linen skirt 3 (short, revealing, loose)

  • Two long sleeve stretchy tees 3 (tight, stretchy, clingy, high neckline)

I think the hard cutoff number for me is a 5; anything 4 or lower is probably a sign to let the item go. From there, I guess it’s up to my instinct, or whether practicality and thrift override aesthetic considerations. This means the discard pile consists of: 2 long sleeve stretchy tees, a green linen skirt, a cotton A-line cami, a skinny braided belt, a striped silky cami, a black silky cami, and a white sheer hi-lo tunic. I’m sad to part with the camis and the green skirt, so I am considering the context of these pieces: The skirt with sneakers is revealing but less traditionally feminine, and the revealing camis might be balanced out when worn with long linen pants. Some items that score higher but are still probably going to go include the pink cashmere sweater (it’s just too pink), the shorts (too revealing), and the long white parka (too hourglass-shaped). Skinny jeans in general are being reconsidered and I’m having difficulty scoring them. The black ones feel a bit edgier than the blue, but even the blue are kind of slouchy and certainly not skintight. I’ll have to wait until these things actually fit to see what I really think.

MInimalist Shame

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I’m experiencing minimalist shame. The apartment is a bit messy lately. Things are out of place or they just don’t have a place so I dump them in my husband’s office. I haven’t cleaned out the fridge in weeks and our “snack drawer” is overflowing with packaging and neglected food. I recently went through all the clothes I have in storage in a smaller size and I’m overwhelmed by how much I have. I just received a shipment of vitamins and it’s pushed my pill drawer to the limit. I have a growing pile of clothes that need to be listed on Ebay, sent to Thredup, or donated (as my body gets smaller, the pile gets bigger). I have some old curtains and sheets in the trunk of the car that need to find a new home. The bathroom is overrun with toiletries and needs a clearout. My husband’s nightstand is stacked with books and New Yorkers. There’s laundry to be dealt with. My husband’s in the middle of fixing our armchair so it’s on the dining room table. And the whole place needs a proper vacuum and dusting and none of the clutter is making that any easier.

These are the times when I think that I’m not really a minimalist, I just want to be, and that there’s a big difference. But just because the house is messy doesn’t mean it always will be. It’s perfectly normal to have an influx of “stuff.” And our “stuff” is all consumables. Prescriptions and toiletries and food and clothes and periodicals. None of these things will stick around for very long, albeit some old things should probably go right away to make room for the new. So I know I will get on top of all of it soon, but it has reached a tipping point.

Even lifelong minimalists have clutter sometimes. It’s part of processing the things that come into our homes. The part I’m having a really hard time with lately is what to do with the stuff that needs to go. Reports tell us that 90% of donated clothes end up in a landfill, so we can’t just donate our belongings guilt-free anymore. Recycling is a far-from-perfect system and not all recyclables are actually sorted properly and recycled. And then there are things that are just broken or no longer useful and have nowhere to go but the trash. You can get creative with weaving tote bags out of plastic ones or fobbing things off on your loved ones, but most of us do create a certain amount of garbage that just can’t be helped. I am making an effort to keep my unwanted clothes out of the landfill by selling them on Ebay and I faithfully sort my recyclables, but aside from that, I’m kind of at a loss for what to do with the rest.

This environmental concern when decluttering is a major change from my ruthless decluttering of the past. I used to donate everything that became unnecessary without remorse, just wanting to get it off the premises as quickly as possible. This newfound enlightenment about what happens to donations has really put a kink in the works in terms of regular (or major) decluttering. Minimalism is no longer an easy feat of just getting rid of stuff. It’s become about being responsible in our discarding, finding new homes for things ourselves because the donation centers can’t keep up with all the “Marie Kondo-ing.” And thus, I’m a bit stuck. The flow of consumables has slowed to a point where I feel the apartment is cluttered. By some standards it’s fine, but not by my own.

Which is another thing I want to talk about: who is setting the standard for minimalism? With the current online trend of minimalism, there is a lot of finger-wagging and trolling when it comes to who is a minimalist and who is not. There are people counting the number of items they own and living out of backpacks and there are people with rather average-looking homes, all calling themselves minimalists. And I fully support that. I see minimalism as a method for living, a way to clarify what is important to you and live more fully. But there are a lot of people out there with rules and competitive streaks who just don’t see it that way. It’s exhausting to even glance at the childish comments about minimalism on YouTube, and pointless to try and engage with them. Sometimes I liken this intensity people have about “the rules of minimalism” as a kind of sickness. It’s almost as though some people are trying to erase their humanness by getting rid of more and more things. I think a little bit of lightheartedness and non-attachment to things could go a long way. Because isn’t that the point? For our lives to be less about stuff and more about other things?

I find a practical approach to minimalism is best for me. If getting rid of something makes my life easier, then I let it go. If getting rid of something makes my life harder, I might just hang onto it for the sake of ease (so long as I have the space). I really want my minimalism to have the qualities of ease, practicality, and lightheartedness. I want to be unattached to possessions and use them anyway. I realize, of course, that it’s perfectly natural for us to form attachments to things. And while for some people those attachments can be debilitating, like in the case of hoarding, I think for others it can be relatively harmless. I personally try to keep my instinct for attachment in check, being selective about how many purely sentimental items I have in my life. But we are human, and sometimes things get messy. Even for minimalists.

Does My Current Capsule Wardrobe Fit My New Style?

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It occurred to me that I’ve never really assessed my current wardrobe in terms of my newer, more masculine style. So I thought I’d make an objective evaluation of whether or not my capsule wardrobe items really fit into my slightly tougher, somewhat masculine aesthetic. I rated each item on a scale of 1-10, 1 being the least desirable and 10 the most. The criteria I took into consideration were:

  1. Is this item objectifying? (Bad)

  2. Is this item revealing? (Also bad)

  3. Is this item traditionally feminine? (Sometimes bad)

  4. Is this item infantilizing? (A hard no)

  5. Do I like how this item looks? (Usually a good thing)

  6. Would I feel comfortable in this item at a social occasion or in public in general? (Also good)

  7. Does this attract the wrong kind of attention? (Hard to explain, but a bad thing)

  8. Is there a context to consider? (What do I wear it with?)

Scores for my current capsule wardrobe, from high to low, with a bit of explanation in parentheses:

  • Two Navy J. Crew tees 10 (Loose, higher neckline)

  • Three ASOS crewneck tees 10 (Loose, very high neckline)

  • Black oversized silky blouse 10 (Oversized, long)

  • Grey cashmere sweater 10 (Loose, high neckline)

  • Hoodie 10 (Oversized, is actually men’s)

  • Green corduroy shirt 10 (Oversized, could be men’s)

  • Black puffy parka 10 (Loose, could be men’s)

  • Black raincoat 10 (Loose, could be men’s)

  • Tan anorak jacket 10 (Loose, utilitarian, could be men’s)

  • Grey men’s pants 10 (Loose, are actually men’s)

  • Linen wide leg pants 10 (Loose, long)

  • Black V-neck sweater 9 (Slightly fitted, could be men’s)

  • Two scoop neck navy tees 8 (More feminine neckline, loose)

  • Two scoop neck black tees 8 (More feminine neckline, loose)

  • Oatmeal cotton sweater 8 (Long sleeve, loose, high neckline, little pointelle pattern at top)

  • Two black utility shorts 7 (Loose, fairly revealing, utilitarian, could be men’s)

  • Striped tunic 4 (Bold pattern, swing shape, drapey, feminine neckline)

Looking at these numbers, I realized that I haven’t worn the striped tunic since I put it into my capsule 6-7 months ago. It just attracts too much attention for me to feel comfortable wearing. While I might not mind someone noticing my boots and commenting on them, I just feel self-conscious when someone comments on this top. It’s the only thing in my current wardrobe to score below a 7, so I think it has to go. I also realized that I no longer have dressy black pants to wear for the unexpected special occasion, so I’m going to pull some size 14W black skinny jeans from storage and put them in my capsule. That still leaves me at 23 pieces, although the black jeans would score a 6, so are a bit less than ideal. But they’ll be fine with my black oversized blouse and heels should an occasion come up.

I also realized that one of the main criteria for scoring should be, “Could this item be (or is this item) men’s?” I didn’t set out to exclusively wear men’s clothing, though menswear is a part of my new aesthetic. But I still prefer certain shapes that are cut for women. Even though to look at my anorak jacket, you might think it was men’s, there is something about the shape of it which suits my body better than a true men’s jacket would. I find men’s tops to be too big in the shoulders and too tight in the waist. So while I may not like a tailored women’s hourglass-shaped jacket or top, I don’t like a men’s T-shirt either. Hence so many of my clothes still being women’s when I am blatantly seeking a more masculine look. My T-shirts tend to have scoop necks and a subtle feminine drape to them, maybe a little more fitted in the bust and more floaty in the belly. My coats are also tailored to a woman’s body despite appearing pretty androgynous. So the items which only scored 8s are still right up there in terms of my ideal, they just didn’t meet these particular criteria. A certain amount of femininity is something I still enjoy and look for in different pieces. I just really love men’s pants and boots.

Weight Change Capsule Wardrobe Update

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Since coming home from Germany and finding out my current weight, I’ve been reassessing my wardrobe and have decided some things will have to go. My blue men’s pants are officially way too big; even with a belt cinching them in, they look ridiculous. I’ve had a bit of a shift in how I see myself in my grey joggers. I no longer find them flattering, and I think part of the reason could be that they’re too big. Or else it’s because I’m wearing boots a lot and have gotten used to having some volume and weight at my feet and ankles. The way the joggers taper in at the ankle suddenly feels just not right, even when worn with my Adidas sneakers. This whole shift came from seeing myself in joggers in a shop window- I tend not to look at myself in the mirror before I leave the house, so I haven’t had an accurate view of them in a while. There are two pairs of those, so that puts me down 3 pairs of pants. I’m also surrendering my black Ann Taylor trousers that won’t stay up anymore, so it’s a total of 4 pairs altogether.

I still have my wide-leg linen pants, my grey men’s pants (which now require a belt) and two pairs of clearly-too-big black shorts. I’ve been trying to ride out the summer with them because it’s hard to find shorts I like when thrifting and it doesn’t seem worth buying new shorts when they probably won’t fit next year anyway. But then I was feeling desperate with only 2 pairs of pants to wear, one of which doesn’t work so well on hot days. So I broke down today and ordered a pair of linen blend pants from Old Navy. I’m wearing my current linen-blend pants almost every day, definitely favoring them over the shorts, even on the hottest days. I think in general I just like to feel more covered when I’m sweating, like there’s some fabric between me and public seating. So as long as the new pants fit, the shorts will be going soon.

As far as tops, my T-shirts are still going strong with one exception. My light blue DIY-ed Hanes tee is bothering me, and it’s definitely the V-neck. For some reason V-necks look terrible on me, so this purchase was a bit outside the norm. I liked that I found it at the thrift store (sustainability-wise), and then I liked the color of it after I bleached it, but now I can’t unsee the glaring V-neck. In terms of other tops, I put on one of my silky black camisoles today, hoping to wear it out to the cafe. It looked OK at first with a bralette underneath, but after packing my bag and putting sunblock on, the bralette had inched its way down and created a most unflattering “anti-cleavage” look. If the camisole fit me better, I think it would cover my chest enough that this wouldn’t be a problem. But if I’m honest with myself, the camis are officially too big as well. I’m down to 9 T-shirts, one silky blouse, and one striped tunic for tops. My 3 sweaters and 5 layers are all still good; I like oversized things anyway, so none of my jackets bother me, my hoodie and corduroy shirt included.

I’m still wearing the same pajamas and workout clothes, though my T-shirts are getting kind of wide at the neck- it’s only outside or at the gym that I notice it, so no one cares, myself included. I did pull out from storage a couple of sports bras that just about fit now, so that helps in terms of laundry going from 2 to 4 sports bras. And I find myself reaching for the black cotton underwear from storage (which got pulled out during the lost luggage crisis) over my old microfiber briefs. I only have 6 pairs of the cotton ones, so I’ll have to hang onto some old ones for backup- probably the 3 black ones. One advantage of the cotton underwear is that it’s not high-waisted, so it eliminates the sliding issue I was having with my Under Armour leggings. The leggings were falling down with the high-waisted, slippery, microfiber underwear underneath, but now they’re fine.

But as far as my capsule, I’m down to 23 items for the year. This is certainly no emergency for me- I have plenty of tops and just enough bottoms to get by (the two pairs of shorts soon to be replaced by the linen-blend pants). I’m just disappointed I won’t have my camisoles for the summer, and sad to let go of the pivotal blue men’s pants. They really changed my view of myself and my style and that was a significant moment. They inspired the purchase of boots and Adidas sneakers and a men’s leather belt, not to mention my current grey men’s pants. I’m starting to wonder how far this shift in style will go. I’m not looking to switch over to completely wearing men’s clothing. I still like certain women’s styles, especially in tops and jackets, because they fit me better. I’ve never found button-down Oxford shirts or men’s tees flattering on me, so I don’t see those coming into the mix. But I would like to explore more interesting shapes in women’s clothing- more modern, minimal pieces that don’t look traditionally feminine or masculine. Something different.

11 Pounds Down, Hard To Get Up

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I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and got weighed in. I lost exactly 11 pounds over the course of the last 9 weeks. Last time I was 192.6 and this time I was 181.6. But it didn’t thrill me. I’ve been wanting so much to lose weight, wanting it to go faster and focusing so much on my size. But here’s this good news in that department, and I basically feel the same. I’m glad it wasn’t bad news; I’m not disappointed. But losing weight isn’t really making me happy. Now in theory, I could have told you a long time ago that that would be the case. If I’ve learned anything from Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susie Orbach, it’s that losing weight doesn’t make you happy in the end. Most people gain it back. They have a fantasy that weight is their only problem, and if they could just lose it, everything would be OK. But in order to maintain this fantasy, you have to keep gaining the weight back. If you stay thin, you have to actually deal with your life.

So I’m trying to focus more on my real problems, but that’s not something I really want to do. I feel stuck in my recovery from my mental illness. I feel like I’m in the same place I was in for years- generally depressed with occasional bouts of rage or anxiety. The really bad stuff from last year when I was off my meds completely has gone away, and for the most part so have the suicidal thoughts. But instead of raging and throwing things and planning my imminent death, now I’m “just” depressed. I feel generally unmotivated, I find it hard to get out of bed, I absolutely despise the gym, and washing my hair is a big deal. I relayed all of this to my doctor and was met with basically a blank stare. In his mind, I’m sure, I’m still improving, still doing a little more each time I see him, and I guess to some extent that’s true. I went to a meditation class this week as well as two OA meetings. I had a grueling 3-hour dental procedure and an appointment with a genetic counselor screening for cancer risk. That appointment was all good news, but the dentist was a nightmare. I’m scheduled for gum surgery and then for a new permanent crown. I’m trying not to disturb the temporary crown and still eat, but it’s not an easy feat. I’m having more smoothies and blended soups than I’d like to. I succumb to the urge to just eat frozen yogurt for lunch more often than is probably healthy. So it’s been two steps forward, two steps back for the most part.

But my overall sense is that I’m stuck in this general depression, hopelessness, and negativity. I have a fantasy that I can solve all of this by starting a meditation practice and doing lots of yoga. This fantasy was even encouraged by my psychiatrist. But I’ve been down this rabbit hole before. I simmered with rage as he explained how to meditate, something I’ve done for years at a stretch and for which I require no instruction. I’ve done yoga for many years as well, and never has either practice put a dent in my mental illness. But I have this little glimmer of hope now that maybe it’ll be different now that I’m medicated. Maybe my meds give me enough of a boost to actually benefit from meditation and yoga. I think an experiment is in order. God knows I’ve experimented with enough drug combinations over the years. I think I could handle a daily meditation for a month to see if it helps.

I picked up a flyer for one of those 3-weeks-for-$30 yoga deals (I used to rotate around NY on those deals, trying all the studios for the trial period since I couldn’t actually afford to pay for class). For this one you get unlimited classes for the 3 weeks, which sounds promising. But I’m still so self-conscious about my weight that I don’t know if I could handle the scrutiny of a yoga teacher or other yoga students. Maybe I should just start with meditation.

The meditation class I attended was pretty stupid- it was a 90 minute session and we only actually meditated for a total of 27 minutes. The rest of the time was this rando white guy talking real low into a microphone trying to explain “Buddha nature,” pandering to the typical 9-5 office worker with kids and a full social life. Since I relate to none of those things, and because he didn’t have any brilliant insight into the subject at hand, I was bored out of my mind, watching the clock and hoping we’d just meditate already.

My psychiatrist suggested just doing it on my own, which sounds a lot better than all that bullshit. It’s just so hard to self-motivate. Having a time and place and people around to help you motivate really helps. But I do have a little stool in the corner in my closet for this very purpose. I just usually err on the side of lying on the bed and ruminating about the wreckage that is my life. Maybe scheduling a specific time for it would help? Well, it’s all I’ve got to work with for now. The only medication change I have to report is to take out the Metformin (a blood-sugar regulating drug). Matt read an article about how it might be holding me back with exercise endurance-wise. Since I’ve lost over 40 pounds now, taking it out couldn’t do any harm, so my doctor agreed to it. Maybe this will make exercise less tortuous? We’ll see.

Am I Just Lazy?

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I’ve never felt like I’m an inherently lazy person. Quite the contrary, I’ve always thought. Until my bipolar II depression and anxiety got to a tipping point. I had never been on medication before this time, and I finally agreed to start taking it. As my symptoms started to get really bad in 2008, I was still working on a production, performing in a musical at a regional theater. I forced my way through that time, never missing a show or even an entrance, never a beat. But I was crying every day at home (my temporary housing in Philadelphia) and sometimes even crying backstage between cues, trying not to mess up my makeup. I met my husband on that job, and I think his friendship is what ultimately got me through.

Once the show ended, it was back to New York and onto unemployment. Now if you remember correctly, 2008 was not a good time for the economy at large. The worst financial disaster since the Great Depression, to be exact. So while there wasn’t any work for me in the theater, there was a long extension of my unemployment benefits. I considered it a bit of a lucky break to have some time off from working and traveling and get my health in order. I found a psychiatrist who ran a clinic for artists and musicians, and I was able to get medical care despite having no insurance. Even the cheapest poverty-level New York insurance was way outside my budget, so the clinic was a real godsend. And thus I started my decade-long journey with psychiatric medication, a journey I’m still on with my third official psychiatrist. The doctor at that first clinic was incredibly generous with his time and his patience, filling out forms so I could get my prescriptions through Patient Assistance Programs run by the drug companies (each drug company has their own program, so google the name of your drug with the words ”Patient Assistance Program” for more info). He always called me back when I was traveling all over the map and he never let me go without meds.

While I was getting started on medication, I kept getting extension notices from unemployment. This gave me some serious downtime between auditions. I kept up a rigorous practice schedule of singing and I went running every day. I started pursuing an opera career instead of a theater one, and dove into lessons, coachings, and more practice sessions. But things moved slowly with my singing. I ended up working 9-5 temp jobs in NY, and it was hard to find the time and energy to practice. And when Matt started going out of town for work, I started going with him. I’d try to get voice coachings at whatever opera company he was working for, but aside from that and my solo practice sessions, I kind of turned into a lump of weepy despair. I eventually relied on him for money, and I didn’t have the energy to do much. Lots of people dream of working for themselves, or even just having lots of “free time.” But I never seemed to get the hang of it. I’d fill my head with thoughts of dieting or bingeing or rearranging the furniture, but I had no routine and I was constantly changing cities as Matt’s work took him around the country. I was alone much of the time and started to wonder where the day went. I screamed at myself for “not getting anything done.” I couldn’t figure out how to arrange my days and felt at the mercy of my flagging energy, medication side effects, and horrible moods.

And that’s when I started rethinking this whole laziness question. If I wasn’t lazy, wouldn’t I be doing more? Wouldn’t I have a stricter schedule? Wouldn’t I be researching more opportunities, seeking them out? Instead I was doing the bare minimum to keep my foot in my stagnant career, jumping on those opportunities that came my way as a desperate attempt to convince myself that I was trying my best. Because of the state of the economy, finding work was something of a losing battle. But I did some auditions and concerts- with devastating results. I was asked at auditions if I was pregnant (I was not), my voice completely ignored. I subjected myself to the abuse of an opera concert company in NY, purely out of desperation for work. The woman running it was a hot mess, changing rehearsals around on a whim and yelling at ticket-holders in the lobby. I had the encouragement of my voice teacher, I had my practice sessions, and I kept my head down. Even so, you can’t sing Wagner for 8 hours a day and I was at a loss for what to do with my downtime when I was so exhausted. I always felt that I had to ration my energy, saving it up for singing-related endeavors.

Right now, I feel the same way- that I have to ration my energy. I ration my energy for the gym and the cafe, and then I have all this downtime where I can’t seem to move at all. I lie down in the dark bedroom, staring at the wall or just closing my eyes and listening to the panicked screams in my mind. The screams say that I’m lazy and that I’m a failure. They say I should just get my shit together and get over this depression already. They say I’ve wasted ten years looking for a cure and that if there’s no cure, I must not really be sick. Just lazy.

Just a few days ago, I started resisting the urge to lie down in the dark. I’m frantic not knowing what else to do with myself, unable to work, unable to relax. So one night, I went for a walk with Matt. That was hard. I cried, embarrassed by my size, not wanting to be in public. But it was OK. Another night I did some work on the blog. I sat in bed with the air conditioner on and clicked away on my laptop. That was exhausting, but it was OK. Matt picked up a flyer for a meditation center (the last meditation center I’d been to shut down). They have a couple of evening sessions each week, so I’m going to try that instead of ruminating in the dark. Because I keep going over and over things in the past and they never get any better. It never makes things any better in the present, either. And spending all this time ruminating just feeds the thoughts that I’m lazy. So I’m trying to stop the cycle. I’ll just keep trying until I stop lying in the dark.

Berlin Packing Post-Mortem

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Oh, if only I knew then what I know now. I could have packed lighter and had less trouble lugging everything around. But it’s actually pretty difficult to evaluate my packing choices because of two major factors that I didn’t know about going in: the unprecedented heat wave in Berlin in the 34 days we were there, and the appearance of a washing machine in our AirBnB that was not in the pictures or description of the apartment. Neither one of these factors could have been predicted, so my packing regrets are a bit skewed- I definitely wouldn’t have been so far off in my choices if I’d been able to take either of these things into account. But just for sheer drama, let’s look at what I actually wore in comparison to what I brought. I actually made a chart in my bullet journal with all my clothing items listed and the dates of our trip across the top to keep an accurate account; then I made the chart above with the results.

First up, I did alright with shoes: I wore my logger boots 13 times and my Adidas 19 times. Because I was wearing shorts and linen pants more than expected, the Adidas did win out. I could have gotten away without the boots at all, but I did like having them as an option style-wise. The running shoes got 28 wears in 34 days, so they were definitely an essential.

Now onto pants and shorts: Each pair of shorts got 4 wears, so I probably could have just brought one pair since we had the washer. My linen pants got 11 wears- they were great in the heat, especially when I wasn’t up to shaving my legs or having my thighs stick to my cafe chair. Both pairs of men’s pants did pretty well at 5 wears for the grey and 6 wears for the blue. I might have just brought one pair, but I tend to favor the blue ones and there ended up being an issue with them: By the time we got dressed for the plane home, I was afraid they would fall down when I took my belt off going through security. It’s high time to replace them, or else just stick with the grey ones for now. My grey joggers only got 3 wears, so they could have stayed home. I suddenly found them wholly unflattering after catching my reflection in a shop window. They may be on the chopping block altogether sometime soon.

As far as T-shirts: Each one got 2-4 wears, except for one J. Crew tee that got 6. I easily could have cut back, maybe bringing 6-7 instead of 10.

Now the major flaw in my packing was bringing so many warm layers, since it was almost always too hot for anything more than a T-shirt. I never wore the cashmere sweater or the scarf, and I only wore the jacket once. My green corduroy shirt and my hoodie each got 5 wears, but I usually just ended up stuffing the green shirt into my backpack once I left the apartment, so I would have been fine with just the hoodie.

As far as workout gear, my fleece was the most glaring mistake. It got exactly 2 wears, so my hoodie easily could have filled in for it, especially with the washer available to wash out the sweat. The navy leggings got 12 wears, the black 11, but only 5 wears for the Under Armour ones. I discovered that when I run in them, they slide right down my slippery underwear and fall down if I don’t hold them up with one hand. They were reserved for strength/walking days, or else I just didn’t wear them. I could have left them behind. Each of my 2 sports bras got 7-8 wears, so they were both necessary.

One place I couldn’t really have cut back was on pajama/workout tees. They each got 5-9 wears, usually back-to-back sleeping in one and then wearing it the next morning to work out. After working out, they were drenched with sweat and definitely could not be reworn.

Three pajama shorts got 8, 9, and 10 wears, although the Russell cut-offs only got 5. They were essential, however, since they act as my “period shorts,” providing an extra layer of protection while sleeping.

I could have gone without my purse since it only made an appearance on its own 3 times. It was usually stuffed in the bottom of my backpack, so I guess I could have stuffed its contents into the pockets of said backpack, which I used a total of 28 days. But the purse acted kind of like a little organizer inside the backpack, plus it was handy for museums, so maybe it was justified.

And finally, jewelry. I wore my brown beaded bracelet 3 times, my blue studs twice, my silver hoops once, and my pink studs not at all. I wouldn’t have bothered with jewelry if I’d known how little I’d wear it, but it doesn’t take up much space, so no big deal. The belt was worn only with the blue men’s pants, so 6 wears there.

I didn’t keep track of bras, but I definitely didn’t need all 6. I think I only wore 3, favoring my 2 white sports bras over the lace bralettes. Underwear was fine at 9 pairs- not too much, not too little. Socks were a bit excessive since we had the washer. I could have cut back from 18 pairs to 12: 4 for working out, 4 for Adidas, 4 for boots.

Toiletries were pretty much okay. While some things didn’t get used, they are small and I’d rather be over-prepared in that department than not. Items I could have left behind include my hair gel (which exploded on the flight anyway), my hair clip that doesn’t work with my new haircut, and my unopened bottle of Elta MD sunblock since the Vichy and La Roche Posay lasted me the whole trip. I didn’t need the hanging laundry rack since the apartment had a huge fold-out one. I never used a couple of cloth shopping bags since we just used our giant grocery bag instead, or else the Urban Outfitters one. And strangely, I didn’t use my water bottle at all. All the cafes provided water and glasses, and at home we just drank mineral water in glasses. One more thing I didn’t need was my old SIM card for my phone- apparently they stop working if you don’t use them for a while, so I ended up getting a new one instead.

Pills and vitamins worked out perfectly- I had some extra in case of travel delays, which we didn’t have anyway. Plus I had them in my carry-on so they didn’t get lost with the checked bag.

Edited packing list: *indicates worn on plane

Toiletries:

Miscellaneous:

Medications and Vitamins (41 days’ worth)

Electronics:

Books:

  • Latest notebook and 2 blanks

  • Poetry notebook and 1 blank

  • Bullet journal

  • Meds calendar

  • Crossword puzzle book

Pants/Shorts:

  • Blue men’s pants with black leather belt*

  • Grey men’s pants

  • Grey linen pants

  • 2 Black shorts

Shoes:

  • Logger Boots*

  • Running shoes

  • Adidas sneakers

Tops:

  • 3 ASOS black/white/grey tees

  • 1 Gap Factory black tees

  • 1 Gap Factory navy tees (no)

  • 2 J. Crew navy tees

Layers:

  • Navy blue hoodie*

Underwear:

  • 9 pairs underwear

  • 2 white sports bras

  • 2 lace bralettes

Socks:

  • 4 Puma black workout socks

  • 4 Puma white ankle socks

  • 1 Solid crew socks

  • 3 Marled crew socks

Pajamas:

  • 4 Blue pocket tees

  • 4 Grey (workout) tees

  • 4 jersey shorts

Workout:

  • Navy Danskin leggings

  • Black Calvin Klein cropped leggings

  • 2 black sports bras

Items eliminated:

  • Grey joggers

  • 1 Shorts

  • 3 T-shirts

  • Jacket

  • Green shirt

  • Sweater

  • Scarf

  • Fleece

  • UA leggings

  • Jewelry

Well, if I knew then what I know now, I could have cut down on some bulk and eliminated the need for that little emergency carry-on (a freebie Urban Outfitters shopping bag tied up by the handles). But in terms of dealing with the unexpected, I was definitely prepared. Maybe a bit over-prepared weather-wise, but I wasn’t lacking anything and didn’t have to make any emergency purchases.

Without a European-sized carry-on, I don’t see how I could have avoided the lost luggage crisis. I am, after that ordeal, thinking of getting one of the little mini carry-ons, but I don’t even know where to get one in the States. All the luggage I’ve seen at American shops or online is way too big to get onto a European flight as a carry-on. I’ve heard a lot of people recommend Away luggage online, but even their smallest carry-on is too big. I’ll have to do some research and compare sizes with the rules of airlines we usually fly with. Then again, an overweight carry-on doesn’t work either, and I’m not sure I’m quite enough of a minimalist to keep it to 7-10 kilograms for a month or more, especially when you factor in the weight of the luggage itself.

Trying to Stay On My Diet with a Six Hour Time Change

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Let’s just say right now that this was not exemplary eating behavior. This time-change meant my day was six hours longer than a normal one. Plus I was downing breakfast at 8am in Berlin, which is about five hours earlier than I was normally eating breakfast anyway. I’d like to thank motion sickness for getting me through the tough parts. Really came through for me there. And I’d like to thank my husband for sacrificing his 100-calorie bag of Cheez-Its to the cause. Because I made it: I stayed under 2,000 calories which is my absolute daily limit- coming in at 1,910 for the day, including my nighttime snack with my Latuda.

Let’s go through the exciting play-by-play. 7am: Wake up. 8am: Matt goes to the supermarket across the street from the hotel and scores me a big yogurt and a bag of fresh cherries. I eat these with in-room espressos (yes, with creamer and sugar) for a total of 400 calories. A thoroughly nauseating cab ride to the airport ensued, Matt actually having to yell at the driver in German that we wanted to go to the airport, not the police station. Thank you, Rosetta Stone for that. Once camped out at the not-so-glamorous bus station of an airport that is Berlin-Tegel Airport, I drank a large bottle of Coke Zero. If this day had a sponsor, it would be Coke Zero. Some time passed and I thought I might pass out from sheer exhaustion. I got a soy latte, approximately 90 calories. Not much help for the exhaustion, but it did extend the car-sick feeling all the way to Amsterdam, where we connected flights. There may have been an in-flight Coke Zero there; I blacked out on how many I actually drank, partly to help with the nausea, and partly to stave off hunger. We power-walked, well almost flat out ran, to our gate and settled in for a 7-8 hour flight on Delta. I was confused by the pre-packaged pillows and blankets at 2:30 in the afternoon, but I understood once we hit the 4-hour mark and I tried sleeping on my tray-table. Food-wise, there were about six Coke Zeroes (come on, they’re tiny cups) and a cup of coffee (also tiny) with creamer and sugar (30 calories). But the real excitement was when they handed out a little card with a list of scheduled food service and different menu options. No prices on it- so I searched on the little TV for food prices, but nothing. My heart fluttered- was this food FREE? The last time I ate on a plane, I think I paid about $18 for a box of cheese and crackers, so this was truly shocking. And yes, it was free. It was.

First came a round of drinks (Coke Zero) and the 100-calorie Cheez-Its. I ate Matt’s bag too, so 200 calories there. And then they came around later with warm towels (okay, paper ones, but STILL). The first meal (yes, there were two) had a Caesar salad on the menu, so I got that, but there really wasn’t much lettuce involved, just croutons and a hunk of chicken. I ate the chicken with a packet of salt sprinkled on it, and a pretzel-roll that had the calories stamped on the wrapper. 200 more calories there. I turned down the wilting fruit salad, the cheesecake-cup dessert, the cheese and crackers, the sad lettuce and dressing, the croutons. I had a Coke Zero to make up for it. A little while later I caved and ate a protein “raw bar” Matt had in his jacket (200 calories). I was up to 1,120 calories and it was only 11am in our new time zone. The second meal I had to forego altogether- it was a choice of pizza or a ham and cheese croissant, both colossal in terms of calories, plus they came with a fancy chocolate ice cream bar on a stick. At this point, I was feeling deprived, so I recruited my husband to try and score me an extra pack of Cheez-Its, but the evil flight attendant claimed she didn’t have any more (obvious bullshit to avoid a tidal wave of Cheez-It requests from surrounding passengers). I had a Coke Zero.

After the devastation of turning away free pizza and ice cream, I decided to just go to sleep. That would pass the time and keep me sated. But it didn’t work. I watched two movies on the little TV- Bohemian Rhapsody and Colette. We finally started our descent (Coke Zero) and I focused on the nausea again. We deplaned, went through customs, and waited for our luggage to never appear. We stood in line to tell them it never appeared. And as we were about to board a bus to the train station, I insisted on buying something salty and greasy to help with the nausea (I don’t know why this works for me, but it does). I ate a bag of Lay’s potato chips from the news shop while sitting on the bus: 390 calories there. Up to 1,510. Bus to train, wait for train (bottle of Coke Zero), train to Lyft, Lyft to home. Remove disgusting clothes and shower, settle on painting shorts for attire. Take pills with two more “raw bars” for 400 calories and fall into deep sleep. I did it. 30 hours on 1,910 calories. Wouldn’t advise it. Never want to do it again. But I felt I had to in order to maintain my sense of control over the food issue. I need to stay on my diet for the sake of my mental health right now, so I did it. I did it.

MInimalism Mishap: Lost Luggage

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Home at last.

Home at last.

I’m home from Berlin and it’s been a bit of a trial getting here. Our flight got changed at midnight the night before we flew out and Matt had to argue our way onto a decent flight home. Then it was all pretty typical, except for one shocking feature on a Delta flight: free food. I haven’t seen a free meal on an airplane in years, and it felt absolutely ridiculous being handed the warm “towels” they’d come around with before the meal. In the end though, they lost our luggage and then once home, our car wouldn’t start. We do have Triple A, so the car’s getting worked out, but we had to borrow my mom’s car in order to buy groceries (after a month away we had nothing to eat in the house). But back to the luggage. I was pretty proud of myself for managing to fit a month’s worth of clothes, shoes, and toiletries into half a suitcase without causing it to be overweight. But I never really thought through what would happen if our luggage got lost. I had all my pills with me on the plane- that’s always a non-negotiable. But I didn’t even do that thing where people recommend you pack an extra pair of clean underwear in your carry-on. Probably because my “carry-on” was just a glorified grocery bag from Urban Outfitters, knotted at the top to keep my packing cube full of pills from falling out. I had one other packing cube of pajama/workout T-shirts in there and a fleece to try and corral everything together. But that was it- no extra underwear, no bullet journal, and no other clothes. Like, at all. I didn’t really have any clothes to come home to either, since I have a small capsule wardrobe and most of it was in the missing suitcase. I guess this is why most minimalists just bring a carry-on. Lesson learned. But you can’t fly in Europe with one of those typical American-sized carry-ons, plus the weight limits are strict. I don’t own one of those tiny roller bags like flight attendants carry, so the carry-on thing just wasn’t going to fly (get it?).

My husband and I thought one checked bag for the two of us would be economical since you pay $50 per checked bag, plus it would leave us less carry-on luggage to trapse around the airport with. This seemed like a fine plan until I was trying to find pajamas to wear to bed last night. I settled on a tank top (thankfully left at home) and a pair of shorts designated for painting projects. I had no clean underwear, so after my shower I went commando in my shorts (sorry for the TMI). When I got up this morning (bright and early of course, jet lagging) I lolled about for a while before we eventually decided to hit the cafe. Once again, I was at a loss for what to wear. I picked out one of the pajama T-shirts, an underwire bra I’d left at home, and an old pair of paint-spattered jeggings (also from the painting capsule). I donned my summer slip-on Supergas, along with some socks that specifically go with those shoes. And I have my computer, my notebook, my one pen, my wallet, etc. which came on the plane with me in my backpack. But no underwear. Right. So I pulled down my storage bin of smaller clothes. The last time I looked through them, I’d put some underwear that “might fit soon” away and noted where they were. So today, out it came, and by god, they fit. Tiny people in my chest started jumping up and down, or so it seemed. I played it cool. This does not change my worth as a person. I am the same. I’m just wearing different underwear. The tiny people simmered down. I got dressed and decided to start a load of laundry: I threw in my plane outfit, and then I rewashed all the pajama/workout T-shirts, not really trusting our Berlin Eco-washer to get them truly clean. At this point it dawned on me that I would have to get on the treadmill today. Our flight change yesterday eliminated our opportunity to work out, so today we’re back on again. I pulled out some too-small sports bras and a pair of leggings from storage. I set aside one of the workout tees and a pair of thick crew socks that would have to do. And then I realized I had no shoes. This means that today will either be a walking day in my Supergas or my boots, or I will be hitting up the painting wardrobe once again. I have an old pair of running shoes that could “step in.” I’m feeling pretty smug about owning my painting clothes at this point. Oop, we just received a text that said our ”luggage has been located,” though in what country, they didn’t say. I doubt it’ll be returned today, but maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, it’s painting clothes and underwire bras for now. Welcome home to me.

Makeup Musings and Minimalist Skincare

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I’ve been watching a lot of beauty YouTubers lately (Samantha Ravandahl is my favorite) which is kind of weird since I don’t wear makeup. I never have worn makeup, at least not as an everyday kind of thing. I’ve been blessed with good skin and never really felt the need to embellish my face. But I had to wear a lot of makeup for shows. Working in regional theater and doing opera concerts meant doing my own makeup every night, and sometimes twice a day. My methods were basically what I learned from my mom, who once bought a set of VHS tapes that showed you how to do your makeup, possibly involving Jaclyn Smith. This was obviously before YouTube, and even before DVDs, if you can imagine. The gist of the instructions were to put eyeliner on the top and bottom lash line (not the waterline). Then there was a bit about putting eyeshadow in the crease, blending as you go up. And then streaks of blush along the cheekbones, lipliner, and then lipstick applied with a brush.

Stage makeup

Stage makeup

My own methods didn’t follow these instructions exactly. My routine for show makeup was concealer under my eyes, foundation all over- including over my eyelids- and occasionally powder after that. The eyeliner thing really stuck with me- above and below, a little more at the outer corner than the inner corner. And the bottom was pencil liner while the top was liquid with a “wing.” I was partial to Almay products, and the liquid liner came in a little bottle like an inkwell with a brush in the cap. Eyeshadow was darker brown on the lid, and then got lighter as it went up, using a white “highlight” color right under the brow. I didn’t do anything to my brows. Okay, there was one time when a rather glamorous Korean friend darkened my brows with a black pencil for my senior voice recital, but I still think it looks weird close-up in the photos. I liked to put blush kind of in the hollow of my cheek since that’s where I naturally flush. And then lipstick, of course, the color usually dictated by the costume mistress, and lots of mascara. Bigger theaters or stylized pieces sometimes required false lashes, but there wasn’t much beyond that, unless you were supposed to have some sort of gash in your head in the show. And my makeup skills froze in time and never evolved from there. But these YouTube videos I’ve been watching are a revelation. First of all, the biggest takeaway is: no eyeliner on the bottom lash line. None! Boy, does that make me feel old. Lots of girls are still doing winged liner on top, but not for the stage, just for everyday. But for under the eye, they are just using eyeshadow. And usually a light colored eyeshadow. It definitely looks more modern, so I’ve taken note. And the other big thing is: fill in your brows. Really thick brows are in right now- girls are barely plucking and actually drawing in extra brow hair. Oh, and then there’s brow gel- a mascara-type product that you put through the brow hairs to make your brows “stay in place” and “look fluffier.”

This is all new to me, since I’ve been obliviously plucking my eyebrows since high school when a friend of a friend pinned me down at a sleepover and forced the situation. I even go so far as to trim the longer hairs on occasion so they don’t stick out like my dad’s. So I’ve started letting them go a bit more natural lately. One other thing is bronzer. Contour is something I’m familiar with in terms of theater makeup, so nothing new there, but bronzer was never a thing when I came of age. Now it’s apparently more important then blush, which is delicately applied to the apples of the cheeks. But bronzer goes on cheekbones, temples, and sometimes just everywhere. Oh, and highlighter! I did discover a liquid highlighter several years ago, using it on my brow bone and upper cheekbone, but now it seems to be par for the course. Because it’s all about “glow.” With Glossier and other brands coming out with all this “dewy” makeup, YouTubers are just eating it up. I have yet to experiment with all these new developments since I’m basically too lazy and too cheap to try out a bunch of different products. But I have certainly been educated should I change my mind.

One thing I am faithful to in the beauty realm is skincare. I have an extremely minimal routine, since my skin is rather sensitive and doesn’t like to be messed with too much. During the day, I’ve started wearing an SPF that works as a moisturizer and gives me a “dewy” glow. First I tried a Vichy stick sunblock, but found it was best suited to working out. While Matt was in Germany on his own recently, I had him ask at the Apotheka (the medical pharmacy in Germany that only sells high quality skincare) for a sunblock that was “not greasy and not sticky.” He came back with La Roche Posay liquid sunblock in 50+ (I can’t find the exact German product online). I slacked on using it for a while, but for the past month or so I’ve been applying it religiously in the morning, and it really is good. I don’t even feel like I have anything on, and it spreads really easily, warming up with the touch of your fingers. I squeeze it on my forehead, cheeks, and chin and then rub it in with the tips of my fingers. I highly recommend it, though it does give you a significant “glow.” I’ve been out in the sun quite a bit here in Berlin and I don’t think it shows at all on my face. I’m hoping that with consistent use it will allow my freckles to fade somewhat. When this bottle runs out, I am going to switch to Elta MD 45, recommended by my dermatologist. I told her how some sunscreens give me a cold sore on my chin and she suggested I try this one. I tried a sample and really liked it- it’s much cheaper and maybe even a little bit less greasy than La Roche Posay. So that’s it for daytime, aside from occasional Dr. Hauschka Lip Balm. This is the only lip product I can use without irritation.

At night, I’ve been washing off the sunblock with either a milky cleanser from Nivea that I got here in Germany, or else Burt’s Bees Cucumber Face Wipes. I’ll have to find a good cleanser once I get home, since the wipes are pretty expensive if you use them every day. From there it’s strictly Dr. Hauschka products. I discovered them in Germany, having heard the name before, whispered by a makeup artist one day at a theater workshop. They are also sold at the Apotheka, and while they are prohibitively expensive at Whole Foods at home, here in Germany they are much more affordable, and so I stock up whenever I’m here. Amazon is a good place to check for Dr. Hauschka at a reasonable price as well. I use the Cleansing Cream in the shower once or twice a week. It’s a gentle exfoliator with what feels like tiny grains of sand in it, but it leaves your skin feeling really hydrated (my skin tends to be dry). Every night I use the Eye Cream, not just under the eye, but all over the lid and everything. I follow up with the Quince Cream- a light and fresh moisturizer that smells of quince. I’ve never had a cold sore or any kind of breakout from using these products and that’s really saying something for me. I do cut the Quince Cream with a tiny bit of water to make it easier to spread on. I wet the fingers of one hand and rub it together with the cream before spreading it all over my face and neck. In the morning, my skin just feels nice and soft. So that’s all- sunblock and lip balm for daytime; face wash, Cleansing Cream, Eye Cream, and Quince Cream for nighttime. And currently no makeup, though I am tempted to experiment with these things I see the kids doing. We’ll see.

Fat Thoughts: Are They Real?

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I think I’m experiencing some form of body dysmorphia. You see, in my mind, I’ve already lost the weight. In my mind, this whole gaining-100-pounds thing never happened. In my mind, I’m thin, the way I was for many years. This is part of why looking in the mirror can be so traumatic for me. To see my size, the shape of my face, my neck, my belly sticking out- it’s just a shock, really. And once I see it, I look enormous in my mind. I think of myself as looking like a mountain. I reprimand myself for “parading around” like any thin person, walking down the street, wearing my enormous clothes, oblivious to how huge I am. It seems impossible that I was ever any heavier than this, despite the fact that I’ve lost 30 pounds, because I can’t imagine anyone being heavier than I am right now. When I look in the mirror, I think it’s not even possible to be bigger than I am. And it’s occurred to me that neither one of these ideas is true- the thin-in-my-mind and the fat-in-the-mirror. My body, in reality, is somewhere in between. And by flipping from one extreme to the other, I avoid the fact of what my body looks like right now. It’s like I don’t want to see anything until the weight loss is over, and until I’ve reached that magic weight, I’m just going to delude myself with these extreme fantasies. And while I’m tempted to think that of course I’m shocked and horrified when I see myself in the mirror- I’m huge, after all- there is a part of me that knows I’m not the biggest person in the world, and that even if I was, it does not mean that I need to be horrified by what I see.

There is a theory in Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol Munter’s book When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies that says that “feeling fat” or having negative thoughts about our bodies actually has nothing to do with our physical state and everything to do with our emotional or mental state. In the book, they go so far as to say that thinking you’re fat is never about being fat. It’s just a code we use for something else that’s bothering us. To give an example, Jan gets a promotion at work. Suddenly she looks in the mirror and feels fat. Upon reflection, she realizes that she feels “too big” because she has grown professionally into a bigger role, and is not comfortable with the change. The subconscious shame of becoming “too big” disguises itself as a “fat thought” - the thought that she is too fat. Another classic example would be if Sally got dumped. Her partner said she was too needy and that was why they had to break up. Later, Sally “feels fat” and that thinks that she eats too much. Upon reflection, she realizes that she is ashamed of being too needy for her partner, and that the feeling has nothing to do with her body. These are the most basic examples I can think of, but hopefully they get the point across (for a better explanation and more examples, see When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies).

The theory here is that “fat thoughts” are never about being fat. Even if you are fat. Because it is possible to be fat and not think about it, or even to be fat and feel good about the way you look. When we start having fat thoughts, they are triggered by a metaphorical situation in life that has nothing to do with what we look like. For me, this theory rings true. When I start feeling fat, it’s usually related to feeling self-conscious about my mental illness. There are plenty of times when I’m going about my business, exercising, walking to the cafe, eating a meal, when I don’t think about my body, when I feel perfectly fine about people seeing me in public. These are times when I’m “thin” in my mind, or just anonymous, unnoticeable. When I start feeling fat, it is often because I am actually concerned that other people can tell that I am mentally ill. When I space out mid-conversation, or when I start crying in public. In my mind, fat is code for being depressed.

One way to apply this theory to your own fat thoughts is to focus on the words you use to berate yourself when you feel fat. For me, I think I “look like a mountain” and am ashamed for “parading around” as if I were thin. If I focus on the image of a mountain, I think of its immovability, it’s permanence. When I relate these ideas to my emotional life, it makes me think of the immovability and permanence of my mental illness. I am truly upset by the idea that I will never get better, not that I actually look like a mountain. When I think of the words “parading around,” I think of being in public for all to see, acting like someone who isn’t depressed. I think of “passing” as someone who is healthy. Knowing the truth of my condition, I am ashamed for acting like a normal person. Either the behavior is false, or the illness is false- it doesn’t fit. And this thought is encoded as a fat thought.

Even my “thin thoughts” are code for something else. When I imagine myself thin, I imagine myself as mentally healthy. This is a fantasy for me. I still have many days where I’m unable to leave the apartment, stuck in bed with despair and depression. I am not fully recovered, and my thin thoughts are a fantasy that I am.

This way of talking about our bodies instead of our feelings is a socially acceptable way of expressing ourselves. It is easier to say “I feel fat” than “I feel depressed.” But if we believe those fat thoughts, we miss the real problem, and stay focused on our bodies instead. This may seem easier at the time, and difficult to even be aware of, but in the long run we are denying ourselves a real experience of life. We are denying the truth of our situation and our ability to change it.

Medication Mixup and Minimalist Memorabilia

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Okay, so I’ve been having some bad days here in Berlin. Yesterday I broke down crying at the cafe, unable to think of what to write about, or else just unable to motivate, it’s hard to say. I felt like my brain was stuck in a pile of mud. I kept spacing out and feeling like I needed to lie down. Finally, I downed my coffee and we walked home, my husband just as exasperated as I was. Once there, he drew the curtains, turned on the fan, and let me decompress on the bed while he tried to continue working at the kitchen table. I watched 3 and a half hours of YouTube, and the time just flew by. I didn’t feel rested at all afterwards, just like I couldn’t keep up with life.

I’ve been stressed out by everything lately. Waking up, I’m dreading exercise. At the cafe, I’m stressed about the heat- it’s in the 90s today- and in the afternoon, I’m already stressed about the evening routine. Will I be able to concentrate enough to watch movies or TV? Will I eat the right foods for dinner? Will I be able to get through the time between dinner and my bedtime snack? Will I be able to fall asleep before the akathisia from my meds sets in? And then in the morning it all starts over again. My routine starts to close in on me sometimes and I feel like I’m just scraping by. Last night as I was trying to calm down and relax, I thought I’d take my bedtime anti-anxiety medication a bit early. I opened my pill case and looked for the little blue pill. I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there. All these nights I’ve been struggling to fall asleep, struggling to stay asleep, and it never occurred to me that I might have forgotten that little blue pill.

I dole out my pills once a week into 3 pill cases: morning, afternoon, and bedtime. The bedtime pills and vitamins are quite a fistful, so it’s easy for me to overlook something like that. I’m very methodical in how I dole them out, opening each bottle and replacing it into the clear plastic zipper pouch in which I keep all the bottles. But putting anti-anxiety medication into the pill case is new (I used to just keep the bottle by the bed). I don’t remember doing it either time I filled the pills since being in Berlin, and I’m not even sure I did it with the original set of pills I left home with. That means that there have been at least two (maybe three) weeks with some days without any anti-anxiety medication, and other days where I only took it in the early hours of the morning to fall back asleep. And so I wonder how many of these “bad days” can be attributed to this little mixup. I’ve been on this medication for years now, taking it at bedtime for at least a year, so this could have really been throwing things out of whack. I’m hopeful that putting it back in will at least help make nighttime less stressful, if not help balance me out throughout the day.

And once again I’m reminded that just when you’re blaming yourself or your circumstances for your misery, it’s a good idea to check your meds. There are all kinds of symptoms of chemical problems that we really think must be behavioral. I was questioning my routine, questioning the timing of every little move I make, blaming my husband for “jinxing” me, and it never occurred to me that there might be a chemical problem.

The last time I had a medication-induced problem was when I was suffering from akathisia at night, after taking my Latuda. Experimentation proved that the horrible climbing-the-walls feeling of akathisia was indeed from the surge of Latuda soon after taking it. Now I take it right before bed (with the 350 calorie snack it requires). Problem solved.

Another example of this has to do with exercise. I still absolutely loathe exercising, despite having been doing it 6 days a week since the start of the year. My endurance seems to be at a standstill. Usually if I’m exercising regularly, I can run for at least a half hour at a stretch, and if I’m on the treadmill, I alternate between a slow speed of 4.3 and a high speed of 5.3. This regime seems so far away right now, despite my religious consistency with walking and running. Currently, I’m only doing 10 minutes of running and 10 minutes of walking on cardio days, and that seems a real struggle. I keep complaining to my husband about it, but I have yet to find a solution. And then the other day, he read an article in The New York Times that talked about Metformin and an experiment that suggested it might interfere with increasing aerobic endurance. I’m on Metformin, as a preventative for diabetes since my weight was so high. Now that I’m down 30 pounds, I might be able to come off of it, and that might solve this exercise problem. We shall see. All I’m saying is, when experiencing any symptoms, it’s worth checking your meds.

There have been random “good days” interspersed with the bad: two days ago we went to the Alte Nationalgalerie (an art museum). I was able to wander through the museum, walk the distance to “Museum Island” from the subway, and have a pleasant coffee in a secluded courtyard cafe on the way home. It’s the kind of day that makes you superstitious- what did I do today and how can I replicate it exactly so I will have another good day?

At the museum gift shop, we bought some souvenirs. Partly due to my minimalist tendencies and partly due to a lack of luggage space, we’ve rarely brought much home from Europe. I have a couple of pieces of jewelry and one dress from Paris, but our only other allowance for souvenirs has been postcards, especially postcards from art museums. They usually have postcards of memorable pieces at the gift shop, and it’s nice to have a picture of something beautiful or meaningful that we saw on our trip. A lot of minimalists shun souvenirs, and for the most part, I do too. But postcards are small, flat, easy to store or display, and inexpensive. My husband looks through the box of them every time he starts a new design for an opera set, and I like to keep a few on binder clips hung on nails in the wall in my office, swapping them out periodically. This time, we bought nine postcards, not for sending, just for us. Buying only postcards on trips is a good rule of thumb if you’re going minimalist but can’t let souvenirs go altogether. Personally, I need help remembering trips since my memory is pretty poor, but I still don’t want to clutter up our house with magnets and keychains and mini Eiffel Towers. Memorabilia and sentimental items are always the hardest to get rid of when you’re decluttering, so it’s best to nip the problem in the bud and just not buy the stuff. Or else keep it to small things, a small number of things, things that are extremely useful, or even better, just photos.

The Donut Hole

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I’ve been thinking about buying a donut. Major decision, I know. But for me, it is. Donuts were the food I gained a lot of weight eating last year. At the worst of my mental illness last summer, in between crying and screaming at people, between going running and lying down seething, I ate a lot of donuts. Sometimes 9-12 a day? Something like that. And they were giant fried crullers with glaze on them, aptly named a “glazed stick” at our Dunkin Donuts. They probably had 4-600 calories each, as they were larger than the standard glazed stick at 370 calories. Multiply that by 12 and you get at least 4,800 calories a day in donuts alone. But let me explain.

Despite my horrific mental state on little to no medication at that time, I was also trying to “legalize” donuts. This is part of the process of overcoming overeating introduced in Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol Munter’s books Overcoming Overeating and When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies. The idea is to eat certain foods freely until they lose their taboo and therefore, attraction. They become like any other food. The legalizing process usually doesn’t take very long- in my twenties, it took less than a year. I went from compulsively bingeing to eating freely and normally. I was thin and could eat whatever I wanted. I’ve been chasing that state ever since, trying to legalize foods and find more effective ways of dealing with my emotions instead of eating. After a certain amount of time (and weight gain), I would get scared, start counting calories, and go back to dieting. This time, I thought, if I could stick it out long enough, it would work for me again. I committed completely to the process, keeping the freezer full of donuts and eating them for almost every meal, waiting for the inevitable day when their allure had run its course. It never did. I was either eating for comfort from my extreme duress or I was ravenous from Seroquel all the time. I couldn’t even find a sense of fullness, never mind satisfaction. I couldn’t relax around food because I couldn’t ever relax at all. I was in the worst way in terms of my (Bipolar II) depression and rage. My husband and my mom were trading shifts babysitting me, all day, every day, always at the ready to take me to the hospital if it came to that. I was wishing for death, fantasizing about suicide constantly as an escape from my unbearable situation (I should have been in the hospital, but I refused to go). It was the first time in 10 years that I’d been unmedicated. And then I was prescribed Seroquel, and gradually worked my way up in dosage. The Seroquel made me tired and hungry, but it did nothing for my agony. My rages settled down, but so did my ability to exercise. It’s difficult to even think about that time. Apparently, it was no time to legalize donuts. It’s better to do that when you’re mentally healthy and can think clearly and take care of your emotional needs.

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Since I started counting calories and dieting again, I haven’t even looked at a donut. I eat cookies every night with my Latuda (you need to eat 350 calories with it), but somehow that’s been just fine. Lately, though, I’ve been feeling awfully deprived. I walk down the street in Berlin, seeing people eating whole “personal” pizzas themselves, thin people eating “kuchen” or cake with their coffee, eating ice cream in public- huge, elaborate sundaes made in the shape of a plate of spaghetti or piled high with waffles and sauces (yes, there is something in Germany called “Spaghetti Eis” with vanilla ice cream “pasta”, red raspberry “tomato sauce”, and white chocolate “parmesan” on top). And I’m not eating any of it. It’s too hard to estimate the number of calories in even a bite of cake, so I just don’t eat it. It’s also really difficult to fit cake into your 1,800 calorie allotment for the day.

And so, the donut. Going to the grocery store here is a real trigger for me. There are all kinds of junk foods we don’t have at home. And the last time I was in Germany, I was bingeing on them. At the bakery counter with my husband the other day, he was buying a loaf of bread for himself. I was eyeing all the things I can’t eat. The cheese danish, the “Schwein Ohr” (“pig’s ear”- kind of like a giant Palmier), and especially, the jelly donuts. Strawberry filled, generously glazed perfection. I brought up the idea of having one as my night time snack with my husband. He saw it as a potential Pandora’s Box, something not worth playing with. I argued, claiming it would be easy to estimate the number of calories, since they were comparable to a Krispy Kreme and the calories in those are listed online. And then he reminded me: I have a history with donuts. And it’s not one I’d like to relive. So the donuts are staying behind the case for now, and perhaps forever. I will not fall down the donut hole again.

Seasonal Capsules and Winter Accessories

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There seems to be a great divide when it comes to seasonal capsule wardrobes. Some people think storing away out-of-season clothing is a great idea, inherent to the capsule wardrobe concept. But devout followers of Marie Kondo and her The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up as well as many minimalists out there insist that it’s best to keep everything out all year. I definitely see the benefits and drawbacks of both ideas, and while I’ve always kept everything out all year, I’ve been thinking about experimenting with the seasonal storage approach. Marie Kondo says in her books that it’s unnecessary to store things away because when you have the right amount of clothing, you don’t need extra storage. I’d agree with this, and add that storing things away can lead to forgetting what you have, and then buying things you don’t need- especially when the season starts to change and you’re bombarded with summer sales announcements in your inbox. But I guess the main reason I’ve always done it this way is that I just like to know where every item I own is at all times. Maybe a bit obsessive, but that’s just how my brain works.

Now there are loads of people doing the seasonal capsule wardrobe instead of just a minimal wardrobe. Caroline Joy of the blog Un-fancy was one of the pioneers of the seasonal capsule concept that most people are familiar with online. She recommends a capsule of 37 pieces every 3 months, storing out-of-season clothing away for the rest of the year. But she also suggests a strict no-shopping policy for the 3 months of each season. Her idea is to only use the last 2 weeks of the season to shop for the following season, having assessed what you already have in storage. This sounds like a reasonable and deliberate approach that allows you to not stare at your bulky puffer coat every day of a blisteringly hot summer. I think this system also helps you touch base with your wardrobe and declutter as necessary, maybe even clearing things out at the end of each season when you’re most familiar with what worked and what didn’t. One other benefit to the seasonal storage idea is mentioned by Jennifer L. Scott, who introduced the Ten-Item Wardrobe in her book, Lessons from Madame Chic. She suggests that switching items out each season can make you feel like you’ve just gone shopping. I love this idea- seeing your seasonal items with fresh eyes could absolutely help with those “summer sale” urges. Why buy new items when you’ve just been reunited with an old favorite?

For the time being, I’m storing out-of-season sweaters and hats and gloves in my chest of drawers, where there’s plenty of room to do so. And so, for the final installment of my capsule wardrobe/minimalist closet inventory, here are my 8 winter accessories:

First are the 4 items for everyday wear:

1 grey cotton slouchy beanie

1 grey wool oversized beanie

1 blue velvet 1920s style flower hat

1 pair tan leather gloves (Lands’ End)

And then 4 more items for cold-weather exercise:

1 Under Armor striped grey and turquoise beanie

1 Old Navy grey fleece scarf

1 pair black Under Armor liner gloves

1 pair grey Under Armour flap mittens

(The scarves are in their own category, but to reiterate, I have 2 winter scarves: an oversized cashmere grey cable knit scarf and a blush Calvin Klein logo scarf.)

I bought the grey cotton slouchy beanie this year, but I’m afraid it’s been a mild failure. I was trying to replace the hand-knit wool beanie due to incessant fuzziness, but that’s proved difficult. I finally settled on the cotton one from TJ Maxx, but it’s just not warm enough, so now I have both. My other strategy with the wool hat’s fuzziness was to have at it with a depiller comb. Note to self: this does not work on chunky knits. In fact, it makes it worse. So then I carefully skimmed over it with my husband’s electric clippers. This gave acceptable results, so I ended up keeping the hat, but it seemed premature to get rid of the cotton one. The blue velvet hat is from a street vendor in Times Square. It’s my fancy winter hat. The leather gloves were a gift from my husband and have those fingertips where you can use your phone with your gloves on. I hesitated to wear them much this year out of fear of losing them, which is ridiculous. The running hat and scarf are both warm and easy to throw in the wash. The liner gloves go under the flap mittens, so you can just slip your fingers out of the flaps to change songs mid-run. I’m packing all these into the bottom drawer with the sweaters for now. We’ll see if I feel like I just went shopping when I pull them out next year.

What Do Minimalists Wear To Go Swimming?

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Maybe they just don’t go swimming? Or maybe they go naked or in their underwear? It’s a mystery to me. Personally, I do own swimwear. I guess I’d consider it a tiny seasonal capsule: a two-piece bathing suit, rash guard shorts and top, and neoprene swim shoes. This little ensemble was acquired last year when my husband and I were attempting to take a mini vacation. My parents have a little cottage in Cape Cod, and we’ve twice now attempted to take some time off there. The first time, we had an Ebay mishap and had to drive home (about an hour and a half) in order to ship a package in time. We returned to the cottage, but threw in the towel (so to speak) after another day or two. At the time I was feeling pretty bad, having akathisia and demanding of my husband a constant card game or round of scrabble. I was incapable of relaxing. Our second attempt was a little better. We did actually make it to the beach two or three times- and once we actually swam.

For this much-planned-for-but-barely-achieved swimming, I wore my bathing suit: pretty standard bikini bottoms with a folder waistband and a fitted camisole top with a flowy crochet overlay, all in navy blue. I also wore the swim shoes (there are lots of rocks and crabs at the Cape). On dry land, I wore the black rash guards over the top, both for modesty and for sun protection. The rash guards consist of a stretchy short-sleeve top, bought in way too large a size so it would be loose, and a pair of fitted mid-thigh shorts. I went through a lot when shopping for these items, ordering different sizes, returning them, finally settling on a suit from Amazon in a 2X. The top fits well and doesn’t ride up or anything, but the bottoms are designed for wider hips than mine. This just means the seat bags out a little bit unless I jack them up really high (not a good look for me). I tried and returned a blouson top and shorts set from Walmart which was really cute, but had a serious foam-cup shelf bra inside it, which I suspected would float even when I didn’t. Originally, I was trying to keep it simple and just go with the rash guards as my bathing suit, but I didn’t want a tight top which would roll up when I moved, and the loose top has the same issues with the foam bra top- it floats. In any case, I’m happy to see that the world of swimwear is finally catching on to the idea that not everyone wants to be wearing what looks like underwear at the beach. There are all kinds of swim shorts, skirts, dresses, and different styles of tops out there to choose from, in many different sizes. Plenty of people, plus-sized and straight-sized alike, love the traditional underwear-type looks and that’s all well and good. But for me, it never felt right. I mean, post-childhood, I wouldn’t even wear shorts until a couple years ago.

I’ve tried, over the past several years, to figure out the swimwear conundrum - how do I look like myself and still get to go swimming? I’ve gone through various styles of suit, some traditional, some less so. My last suit was just a stretchy tank and running shorts (with the little underwear inside) bought in haste from a Target in Virginia, where Matt was working, and where our building had a pool and hot tub. This worked well for that trip, but the chlorine pretty much destroyed the fabrics by the time we left. Before that, there was a black deep V-neck one-piece suit from the Gap. I got it on clearance and wore it in our building’s pool in Palm Beach, again where Matt was working. I never felt like it looked very good, at least not how I’d imagined it would, and so at some point it disappeared. Before that, I do recall a vintage-look suit from TJ Maxx in a deep teal. It had ruching throughout, so it masked my rolls of flesh and made me feel less exposed. That one didn’t hold up to the elements for very long, either, so it, too, disappeared. The last time before that that I remember owning a suit was in college when I cut a lavender leotard in half at the waist and wore that to the beach. And then there were my high school years: my freshman year, my family went to Mexico for a week, and I wore one of my bikinis from my early adolescence. I remember feeling like I was spilling out of it since my weight had increased a bit over the years, and I also remember bingeing on candy bars from the hotel gift shop alone in our room while everyone else was at the beach. The bikini was one of a couple suits that I wore when I was 10-12 years old. I’d lost a significant amount of weight since my chubby childhood, starting to diet and count calories when I was 9. Wearing a bikini seemed like a natural benefit to being thin. It never occurred to me that I might not want to show so much skin. So I acted like the people in the Dexatrim and Slim-fast ads on TV- I lost the weight and stripped down to my underwear. Wasn’t that the whole idea?

I’ve promised myself that I won’t do that again. I won’t expose myself simply because I’m thin. I truly believe that part of the impetus for my weight gain has been my subconscious’s attempt to protect me from all that: If I stay fat, then no one gets to look at me in my underwear. But now being fat and exposing your body aren’t mutually exclusive. Plenty of people love the more body-positive movement in swimwear, lingerie, and sexy clothes. But I’ve realized that fat or thin, I just like to be covered. I don’t like to be objectified or on display for everyone to see. Sure, I have bathing suit fantasies of being thin and on some tropical beach somewhere, but in reality, I need to feel clothed in order to feel like a person.