Junk in the not-so-proverbial trunk weighing me down

There are many different types of baggage: emotional, physical, material...I'm sure there's more but they don't really suit my purpose so I'll just leave them off the list.

One of my vices is material baggage: I'm a pack-rat. I can't seem to get rid of anything and every time I try, I go through this mental battle of "but I might need this or fit into this again someday and then I won't have it and then I'll need to go out and buy it all over again and that's just a waste of money so I might as well just keep it all."

I'm not like one of those crazy hoarders or anything, I'm more of a tasteful pack rat- it needs to fit nicely in a cupboard somewhere. But when it comes to my clothes that I haven't fit into for four years but refuse to admit that I've gained that much weight that I don't fit into them anymore and kitchen supplies I just can't let it go because I'm always thinking I WILL lose those 10 new pounds I've gained and I love anything that belongs in the kitchen-gadgets, pots, pans, tupperware, bakeware- heck, even that EggGenie infomercial caught my eye.

And I really can't be blamed for being such a packrat because my entire family is like this. No one is ever allowed to throw anything away- you need to check with the rest of the family to see if they want it first. That's just how we roll.

It got so bad that my husband used to have to give me pep talks before walking into any family function as if he's preparing to send me into battle, "Mandy, whatever they try to give you, you don't need. You're not allowed to bring anything home with you because you never use it, you hold on to it for 3 years and then you bring it back to see if anyone else wants it." And because he's right, I can't argue.

Today is my day to tackle the dreaded spare bedroom which houses all of my summer clothes and clothes that don't fit anymore.

Ugh. Who wants to do that? Not I, my friend. Not I.

I go through this mental picnic twice a year: when it's time to change out winter to summer clothes and vice versa. And every fall I think, "ok I don't want to go through everything and get rid of things right now but in the spring when I take my summer clothes back out I'll go through them and get rid of some. I promise."

Then spring comes around and as I take out my summer clothes I think "well....maybe by the end of the season I'll be able to fit back into this, so I'd better keep it for now and then in the fall when I put my summer clothes away again, THEN I'll get rid of it if I still don't fit into it."

But because my weight is a never-ending cycle of up and down, I never actually get rid of anything. I just keep taking it out and putting it back in.

Speaking of my weight, that's another type of baggage I struggle with getting rid of.

I've been working out (something I do every summer for about 2 months and then quit. The 4th of July tends to be my optimal quitting time) and this weekend I wasn't able to get to the gym so I went running. And let me tell you, it was a whole different experience when you've got 15 extra pounds on you.

My foot hits the payment, a millisecond later my butt comes slamming down with a "BONG-GA-GA-gaaah."

As the last bounce of my butt is ending, the reverberation of my belly is still shaking. It's not just hard downward slap like my butt- oh no the belly is an all over tidal wave of jiggle. It's like a jello mold in an earthquake jiga-jiga-jiga-jiga-jigggggglllllleeee until it slowly teeters off.

So after running I was just thinking "oh this is so great, my stomach is actually kinda sore I must be getting a really good workout"......oh, wait, it's not sore from exertion- it's sore from the physical trauma of the gravity lifting and slamming my gut down, followed by waves of jiggles that ripple through after each foot step.

So with all the working out I've been doing and not really losing anything, it's time to say goodbye to anything that says size 6 and especially the straggling size 4's I still have (really, they look like children's clothes.....which kinda makes it even more awesome the I used to fit into them....and then sad because those cute shorts will never make it higher than my knees ever, ever again).

Goodbye cute little shorts. Hello sensible, cellulite covering, mom shorts in khaki colors. Welcome. You do your job of covering up all that jiggle and you and I will get along splendidly.