Challenges and Temptations

My sister needed to fast for an insurance test offered through Walgreens this past weekend.  She was so hungry that she needed to keep herself busy to try *not* thinking about food.  She wasn't really starving though.  It's just that whole concept of being told that you can't do something so it becomes the only thing you want to do.  It rules your thoughts and emotions out of nowhere.  And to the point that even *doing* that thing isn't satisfactory.  So why?  Why are we programed like this?

Recently a friend of mine lost a dramatic amount of weight very suddenly.  Discovering that her jeans no longer fit her, she asked me to go shopping with her to help her find some new clothes.  She has no idea the challenge that I am doing, and if she does it's just a small idea, not the whole picture.  So, being a good friend I agreed to go along.  Even though, in general, I hate shopping. 

While I strolled the store my eyes locked on a shirt.  A peasant top, ivory in color, with tiny eyelet designs on it.  I decided to try it on.

It fit perfectly.  Better than that, though, it is my dream shirt.  For years I have looked for the perfect peasant top.  I'm not even kidding you.  I never, ever wear white or ivory tops, but in my dream wish...this peasant top would be ivory.  [cue the dreamlike sigh as I look up at the sky]

And now, when I cannot buy it, it falls right smack dap into my lap.  The shirt I invented only in my dreams actually exists; and it fits perfectly.

Really?

While helping my friend stock up on new clothes I was having the clash of the Titans inside my head.  A battle of will and logic.  I could easily convince myself, before my own jury, of the reasons why I should buy this top.  I even could con myself into validly excusing away my own self-imposed limits on things. 

In the end, I walked away.  My friend never knew the battle that waged inside of me as I left a top I've wanted for years.  Perhaps no one would ever understand the sacrifice it was for me to pass up spending money on a silly top.  But for me, it was a victory.  I may never see a top like that again.  But I have to trust that this process is for a purpose. A good one.  And not just to torture me.

S e l a h

God has created me to be a reflective person.  I enjoy being up on stage in front of masses, yes.  But on my down time, I like to be on my own.  Or in the company of one or two good people.  I thrive when I am able to reflect, write, and rest.

This is the one-month mark of my challenge.  It feels like it's been a long time and somehow like I just began.  Living minimally has already changed me and I have 11 months left in my process.  So what have I learned in the first month?

1.  I never want to define myself in confining terms regarding this.  If (in a year) I find myself living minimalistically, I hope I don't preach it, or pressure people to do it as well.  For as much as I'm learning, I don't think I'd have gotten half of what I have already if this had been pushed on me.  Everyone is on their own journey, and I think we (me included) so often get in the mode of judging others for where they are at.  It is unbelievably unhealthy for us to do this.  I want to stay level-headed in this, and not extreme.

2.  I pause.  My entire life I have been able to spot a deal and grab it.  I'm thrifty.  I collect.  Hold on to.  And recycle.  If someone has something they want to get rid of, I take it.  I don't buy fancy things and you know what?  I don't need them!  A friend gave me her old jacket the other day.  I washed it, tried it on, and it's way too big for me.  My first thought, "Get rid of it".  Donate.  Pass it on.  But it's not staying here!  Perhaps this will be the greatest thing I learn from this - what is actual need.  Just because something is new does not mean I need it.  I find now, when people offer me things, that instead of immediately taking them, I pause.  I pause, think, then respond.  This is key to stopping the overflow of clutter in a home.

3.  Use or toss.  My bathroom is my next task.  If hair products aren't being used then why are they taking up real-estate in my home?  Time for another purge!  An easy start, for any person, is to look at one cabinet, drawer, or closet.  Ask yourself "What do I have multiples of in here?" and from there, start to assess what it is that you actually use.  I laugh as I type this because it's been almost 3 weeks since I moved all of the bathroom products from the floor in my bathroom into my living room to be sorted.  And only one of the items made it back to the bathroom.  That means, potentially, I don't really need ANY of that stuff that's waiting to be sorted!  How crazy is that?

Part of me wonders if I should take vacation days and just empty the house out in one swoop.  The other part of me knows it's a process.  I'm not an extreme person and I never want to be.  I'm not the chick who will do a fad diet or all of the sudden change my entire life to be a marathon runner.  I'm more slow and steady.  My life didn't get to where it is now by something sudden and drastic, so making changes (like these) can take some time.  And I'm fine with that. 

But man, I still wish I could rent a dumpster and just go to town.

Hair

I want long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty

Oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen

Knotted, polka dotted, twisted, beaded, braided

Powered, flowered and confettied

Bangled, tangled, spangled and spaghettied

(Hair)

 

Hair  was one crazy musical to watch as a kid.  My family was always very much into the arts.  My Dad was in a band most of his teenage-years.  My Mom was in marching band.  My Dad raised us with the Beatles, Queen, and rock songs.  My Mom raised us with Peter, Paul and Mary, and countless old musicals.  We went to almost every local production of anything, because my Mom knew everyone in our city.  So it wasn't surprising that my sister and I often spent summertime's renting musicals that we'd never seen.  Hair was one of them.  And what a crazy one to watch around 9 years old.

 

 

Maybe that's where my hippie blood comes from.  Nah, it's still probably the Peter, Paul and Mary that did it.

 

Back to hair.  I know this blog is meant to focus on my minimalistic journey but sometimes I will post other things.  Mostly because I'm random and partly because I like talking.  So, like Forrest Gump and his box of chocolates, "you never know what you're gonna git."

 

If you followed my old blog you know that sporadically I try some new form of home hair treatment.  From mayo, to EVO, to cinnamon I've done almost all of them.  Flat beer, that was a fun one.  Well, last night I went at it again.  Rumor had it that avocado was great for the hair.  I decided to take the challenge.  So, in between work outs I mashed an entire avocado in a bowl.  I added a bit of EVO, and half of a fresh squeezed lemon; 'cause why not?

 

Dumb.

 

Dumb move.

 

See, this is the point where I'll just go ahead and tell you that any time you decide to put something in your hair, it's probably a good idea to make it more of the consistency of a smoothie, than say....guacamole.

 

 

 

There I was, mashing guacamole into my hair.  Trying my best to get it to blend like conditioner would.  No luck.  At this point I could feel chunks of avocado falling onto my shoulders and then to the floor. Not only, now, was I questioning my actions at this point but now I'm panicking about avocado being on the floor where the cats can eat it.  Avocado is poison for them. 

 

It was too late to turn back.

 

I sat myself in the tub.  Guacamole on my head.  Not even IN it, just ON it really.  And I laughed at myself.  After all, it did seem pretty funny.  Until I had to strain food out of my tub.  It took me a half hour to drain the tub and get all the avocado bits and fibers out.  At that point I washed up really well.  Scrubbed my hair a few times and went to bed.

 

Definitely had bits of avocado still in my hair when I brushed it this morning.

 

On the plus side, no static!

The Initial Purge

Saturday was the purge. 

 

 

No, I'm not talking about the movie The Purge where one day a year you need to lock yourself up in a panic room, or participate in committing any crime, including murder, with zero consequence.  I'm talking about facing the giant stash of footwear that I never knew I owned.

When I counted my eighty pairs of shoes and boots, after the initial shock and embarrassment of an actual total, I immediately pulled out 25 sets of them for donation.  They lined the entire wall of my living room, rounded the corner, and finished in my kitchen.  Shameful I tell you.  Having far less than half of my total collection take up that much amount of visible space in my common living area made me so much more aware of what I own that I never use.  I'm actually surprised I hadn't resorted to building some shelves to store them more properly! I mean, I could have even started to color code them into pretty rainbow colors like I have done with my clothes in the past...

Like I said, Saturday was the haul.  I whittled my collection down to around forty.  I threw the unusable ones away and neatly bagged up nearly forty pairs of shoes, boots, and *gulp* incredible name-brand heels.  I drove to Goodwill and handed over bags of footwear, in nearly perfect condition, including several pairs of really nice heeled boots, and left. 

Driving away I actually breathed a sigh of relief.  I never realized the hold that these material items had on me.  Items that I rarely ever used and often didn't even notice in the midst of my everyday cluttered and busy life. Now, walking in to my house with an entire shoe rack gone, I felt two things.

1.  Lighter.   For nearly a week there were shoes lining my walls waiting to go to their next stop in life.  My small house felt more open now that they were gone.  Sure my sentimental side was like, "I'm going to miss that pair of tennis shoes!" or "Maybe I should have kept those brown heeled boots - they were so expensive!"  But then my rational side spoke up and reminded me that I literally haven't worn most of those things in years.  Someone, somewhere, will get far more use out of them than I ever did.  And now, with them gone, somehow my home seems more welcoming.  Even if it's just to me, or just in my own head.

2.  Go big or go home!  Forty pairs of footwear is half the number of what I used to own but is still a crazy-large number!  I would like to cut even that number in half.  And so, the process continues...

My take-away from this shoe-portion of my journey:  Quality over quantity.  It's okay to have footwear that you love.  Just make sure you get more bang for your buck!  In the future I will still (always probably) buy my chucks.  And when it comes to boots and dress shoes, I'll opt not for 10 options, rather, a quality timeless set that will last me for years.

Shoe Nation

“I really think guys only need two pairs of shoes.

A nice pair of black shoes and a pair of Chuck Taylors.”

 
― Mindy Kaling, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?   

It is humiliating and humbling to have an actual count of how many pairs of shoes I own.  And the truth of the matter is that I just strolled through the clutter and counted what I could see.  Odds are that there are a few more pairs hidden in boxes or even in bins out in the shed.  Oh the humanity!

"I am absolutely embarrassed and ashamed at the amount of shoes I own." was the text I sent my friend late Monday night.

Then she asked me the total.  When I told her she responded with "Oh my!".

Hanging my head in shame, horror and embarrassment I set out to change my situation.  Let's be real, I love dressing up but rarely do.  I work in a man's world and for me to "dress up" means it would bring attention to myself.  Attention that I really do not want to get from married men. So, I fit in.  I'm one of the guys.  Only difference is that I have boobs, I smell better, and I wear jewelry.  Even though I love my heels, I don't wear them often at all.  My favorite pair I didn't even put on at all in 2014.  Plus, I'm 5ft 9in tall.  Heels make my legs look gorgeous but I tower over the world like a circus side-show act while donning them.  It's time to say farewell to all of them but the few timeless and most used ones. 

Eighty.  My total was eighty.  Eighty pairs of shoes, boots, heels, flip-flops, wedges...  One-hundred-and-sixty-two individual shoes.  Yes, I found two shoes that haven't seen their mate in well over four years yet I've held out hope that I'd uncover them while sorting.  Sorting that I *intended* to have happened five years ago.  This is so humiliating. 

I began this challenge in December.  And, as I mentioned in my very first post, I was pretty worried about the fact that my shoes had holes in them.  My chucks.  My chucks have holes all along the edges of them.  The thought of tossing them out this month and going 11 months before buying another pair was honestly nerve-wracking for me.

Chucks are a part of who I am.  They are a major part of my makeup and identity.  My gray chucks will not last more than another month, I'd guess.  Meanwhile, I actually have a teal pair and a purple pair that I found buried in a pile.  *facepalm*  They aren't my favorite.  In fact, why did I even buy the teal pair?  But the fact of the matter is, I will have backups for when I need them.  And how sad is it that I feel the absolute NEED to buy new ones, while having perfectly good ones that are serving me no purpose other than taking up space?

At first walk-through I have pulled and tossed out 4 pairs and lined up 25 pairs that are waiting to head over to the local Goodwill.  In my mind, as drastic as it may seem, I have the goal of keeping ten pairs of shoes in my head.  This will not include dress boots, wellies, and winter boots.  Even though I am a woman, I see no reason as to why I cannot function on a few chucks, a few dress shoes, some flip flops and sneakers.  I do not NEED ten options for each of those categories either!  I'm not Carrie Bradshaw.  I don't have a Mr. Big who is going to build me a giant closet that dreams are made of. 

 

What I *do* have is a hallway that has had a giant rack of shoes, dust bunnies, and wads of random fur that have been sitting there for years.  I don't even know what my hallway looks like empty.  First goal is to clear out that hallway!

By Saturday I am anticipating a decent haul of stuff to go to Goodwill.  And with it, a sigh of relief as I learn how to keep what I actually use or need.

Baby You're So Classic

Fifteen days into my challenge and I already find myself thinking differently.

I have a lot of things.  Like, a lot.  Like, an embarrassing amount of things; stuff that has accumulated over my lifetime and I've chosen, for whatever reasons, to hold on to these things.  Whether out of sentimentality or future need, I've logically chosen that they need to remain.  And now I find myself in a small house where I feel claustrophobic.

The problem isn't that my house is small and has no storage.  The problem is my view of what is important to me.  A view that drastically needs changing.

Living minimally doesn't just mean that I cannot buy myself new things all year, it means that I need to begin to evaluate what are necessities and what are just taking up space.  Clothing, for me, has always been a huge one.  For whatever reason I never get rid of clothing items unless I absolutely wear through them.  This is ridiculous in light of the mountain of clothes you can find in several areas of my house.  Is that because I'm a messy person?  No.  It's because my ONE closet, my ONE dresser, and my ONE refabbed-into-a-linen-closet entertainment center are full. 

I confess.  I hoard clothes.  It is so difficult for me to get rid of something that I know I will use again - even if it's just for a dress up party, or an 80s bowling celebration, or an ugly sweater contest.  I'm not kidding you, I save items for dress up even.  And I'm not talking cocktail parties dress-up, I'm talking poodle skirt or 1920s speak-easy parties!

This needs to change.

Gone are the days of timelessly classic homemade clothing...

What I wouldn't give to have those times back.

Jackie Kennedy....*swoon*.  Why can't I just be classic?  Why must I live a life of comfort and sweatshirts when I dream of being timeless?

Day 15 and I've realized this: I am not a girl who is meant to have 9000 outfits.  I want to be the girl with timeless, high-quality, pieces!  I am thrifty and cheap by nature.  I'll buy someone else a $100 bag that they love and I'll use a $7 one from the county fair.  There is nothing wrong with my hippie style, but I'm learning that paying more for quality is actually "okay".  I have to remind myself of this fact.  It is "okay".

I may end the year out with very little in the clothing department of my life.  And I think I'll be thrilled about it.  I'm learning that styles I have always loved, ones rocked by the likes of Zooey Deschanel, are ones that last forever. And are worth the investment.

I need to find the weight I long to be at, and then spend the money needed to by timeless items that are of high-quality and will last for years, and be settled in it!

Can you imagine having only a few pairs of pants, a skirt or two, a dress, a few nice tops and cardigans and that's it? 

Good Lord, I think I have like 25 skirts at the moment!  What the heck, man!?

Tonight I'm going to count how many pairs of shoes that I own.  I think I may have a heart attack in the process.  And then, I will donate at least half of them.

Let's DO this!