How to lose 100 pounds after Thanksgiving

For some reason on the Friday after Thanksgiving, instead of beginning a new cycle of acquiring, I usually start to take a look at all I have managed to “collect” or hold onto during the year. The stacks of magazines that continue to inspire- until I put them down, the half burned candles that I know I can melt down and make a “memorial” to the dinners and gatherings they once graced. I see so much potential in all things that it is hard to simply let them go. But there is something about Thanksgiving Day that helps me to release and make room for that which is yet to come. I call it my Thanksgiving Weight Loss Program. It is a day to purge…things.

This year I am drawn to the closet and the treasure trove of memories interwoven in the folds of woolen scarves, vintage dresses and “soldier” suits that served me for so many years. No longer a size 6, 8, or 10, I have to wonder why I hold on to some of them.

I need only touch the brocade of my infamous “Poinsettia Dress” and the memories of the past come rushing back. It was my mother’s official Christmas dress, past down to her from one of her best friends who would never be seen in the same dress twice. A best friend whose life had taken a different turn.

Every year, around Thanksgiving a box from Barbara would arrive. Even though we knew what was in it, it would sit, unopened until the end of the day. I used to wonder why Momma didn’t just open it right away, but I understand now. It was personal. Only after dinner, homework, and baths, would she take that box to the backroom and in front of the full length mirror, try on each and every piece. I would help with the 22 inch zippers that miraculously brought together two halves of a bodice into a seamless silhouette that only the styles of the fifties and the nature of silk or cashmere seemed to capture.

Momma would smile at herself, turn left and right and then look over her shoulder as she smoothed away the wrinkles that came with packing fine woolens for a long journey. I watched her focus soften and just for a minute, I knew she was seeing herself at a party or a tea; seeing herself in a life like Barbara’s. I knew, because I could see it too; a moment ever so brief, yet everlasting.

So while this year, I have gathered close to 100 pounds of power suits and skinny jeans; leather pants and bouclé jackets, scarves and ill-fitting silk blouses, to take to the Goodwill; I have once again, touched and returned the Poinsettia Dress to her protective cover, on the padded hanger, in the back of the closet. After all, It doesn’t weigh that much.