Again, I am going through my closet. Oh, I’d like to be losing weight faster, but as long as it keeps coming off, I’m fine. My clothes aren’t.
I still have that pair of denims and the shirt I wore to Catalina. The pants are 24’s. I took them in, and the shirt will finally button. Still, I am the owner of an acre of pants that slowly fall off. That slide won’t do. I’m trying to replace them but the off, gentle olive I like can only be found in “skinny” pants. No matter what, “Skinny” doesn’t make it on fat, flab, and Lymphedema.
I have one pair of black denim. You would laugh to see me in them. Who worries about clothes that fit at age 75. My grandmother did.
Medical care for my grandpa took all their retirement money. After his death in the 1950’s, she had $85.00 a month to live on. She accepted old clothes from her friends and altered them. She also went through the neighborhood trashcans and altered the clothes she found there. She graduated from Hamlin College in the 1800’s, She married a college teacher who became a college president. My mother gave her fancily wrapped food for Christmas.
Those who knew her remember her loving kindness and caring, I also remember that she was always carefully dressed. Now four generations onward, her great, great grandchildren will never meet her, but will only know her from her pictures. I’m not a kind person, but they too will remember me by my pictures too.