I pull out an empty tub from the garage and I paste an A4 piece of paper with the words SIZE 8 on the lid. I carry it upstairs and sit it on my bedroom floor. I open the cupboards and take a deep breath.
For some reason this feels like a big step. It is something I have been avoiding, something I feel guilty for feeling guilty about. Yoursizeisfine, youstillhaveskinnyprivlidge, youhavenothingtocomplainabout, getoveryourself.
Nevertheless I take a deep breath, reach for the clothes hangers and start hauling dresses and shirts off the rack. I open my draws and pull out the work pants and the white jeans and the denim shorts. Into the tub they go. For an unlikely future when I will be able to fit into them again.