Why I Keep a Simple Closet

There’s really no better barometer for how things are going in my world than my closet. I’ve been keeping a pretty simple wardrobe (or capsule closet) for about five years now so if it’s neat and minimal, things are going pretty well. If it looks stuffed and random … yeah, it’s time for an overhaul.

I can’t count the times over the past few months I have stood in front of my closet thinking, “I hate everything I own.” I have sifted through things I don’t love or that don’t fit too many times or pulled out something I do like only to find it missing a button or sporting a brand new bleach stain.

Today’s task was to tame my wardrobe, and I’m happy to say the deed is done. My closet is once again simple and lovely, and I am already looking forward to getting dressed in the morning. I culled a whole trash bag of clothes, shoes, and bags from closet and left with myself with about 40 items, including work clothes, casual clothes, and an inordinate about of yoga pants. I don’t count underwear, socks, or bras, and I also don’t count purses or pairs of shoes though if I did it would bump that number by about 8 or 10.

Suggestion: My Capsule Closet

Some people think I’m crazy when I tell them how few clothes I own. Some people think it’s impossible to live like this. I’ve been doing it quite happily for five years so I’d say it works for me, and this is why.

I like ALL my clothes.

When I’m on top of things, my closet is a joy. Everything inside it fits me. Everything is something I enjoy wearing, and everything is in good repair. Most of the items coordinate, and those that don’t are stand alone favorite.

When things get out of whack, I end up with silly t-shirts I only wear as pj’s, tops that I constantly have to fuss with, and 8 pairs of black yoga pants. Eight!

Packing is easy.

My hubs and I took a quick overnight trip to the beach a few weekends ago. The week leading up to it was a little busy, and my head wasn’t really into packing. On the morning we were leaving, I put on a casual comfy outfit (that I loved!) and tossed another in my bag. It was easy to choose because I like all my clothes.

Now if I had to pack for an extended trip, things might be a little more difficult. I don’t have a lot of clothes so I’d be praying for a washer & dryer option!

Shop is easier AND guilt free.

I don’t enjoy shopping. I never have really. I’m just not that into fashion, and shopping always has that added “bonus” of feeling guilty that I’m spending unnecessarily on myself. At least that’s how it used to be.

Nowadays when I shop, I know exactly what I need. After this most recent closet overhaul, I need another pair of capri pants and a couple of casual tops (not t-shirts). I don’t need but wouldn’t mind a simple summer dress if I found just the right item.

And if I walked into one store and found every single item, I would feel a bit of guilt. I know I’m not over-buying or simply indulging myself. My closet is sparse so when I say I need something, I really need it.

I still don’t love shopping, and if I won the lottery, I’d probably pay someone to do it for me. But at least in the mean time, I don’t hate it as much anymore.

A simple wardrobe probably isn’t for everyone. I know people who just couldn’t live without 3 or 4 times as many items in their closet to choose from, and that’s okay. We’re all different. I think the most important part of the capsule closet is just being aware of what’s there and letting go of things when they have outlived their usefulness.

Summer Ambitions

My head and my heart are currently at war.

My head shouts, “Make hay while the sun shines!” while my heart whispers, “Relax, recharge, reflect.” 

My head wants to make a hefty To Do list and tackle a project each week; my heart wants to snuggle up in cozy blankets and read romance novels.

My head reminds that my plate is overflowing with home repairs. My heart says, “Maybe it’s time for a diet.”

Summer is almost one third over, and the Head vs Heart debate has come to a head so it’s time for a compromise. These are my Summer Ambitions.

Get Some Work Done

The list is long and never-ending, and this summer I will cross a few items of the list, but I don’t think any major jobs are on the agenda. The fence will have to last one more season, and the deck … well, I’m not going to hold my breath. The thing is after the last year I am exhausted, and my husband still isn’t able to help as much as he’d like. We’ve tackled more big jobs than we ever even knew we could this year, and maybe this summer it’s time to let some big jobs ride and take on a few small but important tasks.

This summer I will finish jobs that can be done in an afternoon. Prune the hydrangea. Replace the outdoor sconces. Pull weeds in the flowers beds. Repaint the outdoor chairs. Reorganize the closets or cabinets. There are lots of days and lots of small tasks. I know I’ll get some of them done, and my summer work ambition is to give myself the grace of not counting.

Have Some Summer Fun

I wish I could whisk my family away to the beach for a month, but that’s just not in the cards. We have jobs. We have commitments. We have bills to pay and, at least this summer, no month-long-beach-trip money to spare, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy as many of the special little summer indulgences as we can.

My resting summer ambition is to drink summer up to the very last drop. Take a day trip the beach. Go camping. Eat froyo. Grill all the dinners. Eat s’mores. Sleep in. Stay up late. Visit the Farmer’s Market. Visit my daughter in Seattle. Enjoy the long days of summer by the fire with friends.

This summer I want to forge a balance between work and fun. Get it done and have fun at the same time. Make some decent changes, but also rest up and be calm before the Fall hustle bustle hits.

Happy Summer, my friends!

 

While I Was Enjoying Fried Chicken …

I had fried chicken for lunch at work yesterday. Fried chicken and potato salad. It was a pretty good day … and a very good lunch. Unfortunately my fried chicken lead to one of the most frustrating conversations I have every now and then. Yes, it’s happened more than once. And, yes, each time is equally frustrating.

Here’s what you need to know: I’m fat. Overweight. Whatever word makes you feel comfortable to describe a person who carries more weight on their body than is medically considered healthy. For me, I like to keep it short and sweet. I’m fat.

I’m fully aware of it.

I’m also fully okay with it.

My train of thought on my fatness is fairly simple (at least to me). I am fat by medical standards. I know it’s not healthy. I know at some point I will need to drop a few pounds in order to be healthier. However I like myself, the real me … my attitude on life, the person I have become, me, myself, and I.

I’ve worked very hard on that part, learning and unlearning what the world told me to be or do. I’ve come to a place of acceptance and “self-love” with the part of me that is, to me, the most important.

I have also come to a beautiful place of acceptance of the least important (to me) part of me which is the outside. It isn’t healthy. It does need some work, but it is what is right now, in this moment, today and for now. I don’t celebrate my “tiger stripes” as some call their stretch marks. I don’t loudly proclaim that “my body has birthed babies!” For me that feels like justifying my body’s existence, and these days that just seems exhausting. And since I don’t need to justify me to me, that justification becomes something I do for someone else, and honestly I just don’t have time for that. I was busy eating my beloved fried chicken after all.

The conversation went something like this.

M=me. WMP=well-meaning person.

WMP: Ooo! That looks good! Where’d you go for lunch?

M: Safeway. They have delicious fried chicken.

WMP: It smells amazing.

M (satisfied grunt): It is.

Other person: And here I am eating raw veggies. (unsatisfied grunt)

M: And that’s why you look like you do, and I look like I do. (laughs)

WMP: You’re not big!

M: Of course, I am.

WMP: No, you’re not! You look great! (because the two are mutually exclusive?)

M: Thanks, but I’m fat. It’s ok. I’m also happy.

WMP: No! You’re not fat!!!

M: Ummm, yes I am. I’m 40 pounds overweight by any medical standard.

WMP: But you look so healthy. You look great. (insert every lame thing you could say here to “make me feel better”)

M: No, I’m fat, but I’m okay with it. *shrugs* I’m good.

The WMP continued to try to “boost” my self-esteem for a few sentences I immediately forgot.

M: Look, you don’t have to call me fat if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s okay, but I know who I am, inside and out, and I’m okay with all of it.

(I should have added “full stop” to the comment. Maybe it would have stopped. Maybe not.)

WMP mumbled a bit more about “looking good” and “being a beautiful woman.” Ugh.

I finished my lunch, all of it I might add, and went about my day, but the conversation rolled around in my head all afternoon and all evening, and clearly I woke up thinking about it this morning.

Here’s the thing. I know that the world thinks I should feel bad about being fat. I just don’t. I have in the past. I have criticized myself in the mirror. I have made fat jokes about myself because if-I-make-them-first-they-hurt-less. I have cried over not finding cute jeans. Luckily that was then, and this is now, and today I’m simply okay with me.

I think it’s what the kids call “body positivity.” I don’t (usually) make loud proclamations about it. I don’t have an Insta filled with photos of me to prove I am proud of my large self. In fact I am not proud of my large body. I am also not ashamed of it. It just is what it is.

I am proud of my positive attitude. I am proud that I am a pretty good wife and mom. I am proud of the work I do with Girl Scouts. I am proud of being a good friend. I am proud of that fact that as I say my prayers each night I have far more to give thanks for than anything else.

Those things are who I am. My fat body is just the shell I keep all those things inside. It is far easier to change than the inside part, trust me, so when I’m ready and have the desire I will change the outside, too. For now, my shell, my fat, is okay by me.

I wish I had a great way to end this story. I wish I had a call to arms or moving statement of acceptance. I just don’t. Because this post is about me and my feelings and my fat. You will have to deal with yourself, inside and out, the best way that you can and come to whatever self-acceptance works for you.

If that means going Keto, go Keto. If that means eating raw veggies and going to the gym every day, well do that. If it means gathering your courage and going viral with an Insta-moment, go viral! Do what works for you.

But for me, in my quiet little life and my quiet little world, I will just be okay with who I am and with the fat-shell that I carry me around in. I will continue to work on the important stuff inside and then someday work that less important part into the schedule. Today I will continue to be Simply Jodi.

Ahem.

Full stop.

 

Grad Week Preparations

About two months ago, about the time we finally had new carpet installed, I created a list, a ginormous list, of things that I had to finish before our family arrived for our Grad Week Celebration. It was two pages long and basically ended with our house being sale ready. I had projects scheduled every day, sometimes multiple projects a day. I told myself that I could surely get it all done.

Spoiler alert: I was wrong, and I didn’t get it all done.

I didn’t get the new baseboard trim installed. I didn’t get the porches re-stained. The fences are still a little saggy, and all of the TV wires are still hanging out for all the world to see. Normally this would annoy me or make me feel like I had failed. A few years ago, I would have worked into the night to finish “just one more project,” and I would have beaten myself up for days over every detail that wasn’t completed.

Instead today, just one week from the beginning of our big family celebration, I feel … amazing. I am excited to see my family. I am so happy to see them and celebrate with them and enjoy a beautiful week together even though my list is far from done, my house far from perfect.

What’s the difference?

Me. I am the difference because I am different. I am different because over the past few years I have discovered the beauty of a simple life and because I have learned to live a simpler life.

I started with that big list, and I really did make an effort to chip away at it, but when I created it I didn’t factor in life. I work four days a week. I have a family that likes to eat every single day. I have kids with activities and events, and I am the taxi driver for all of it.

My list didn’t account for the reality of time and money.

My list didn’t account for those days when I needed to be still and regain my energy.

My list didn’t account for the fact that I can’t (and don’t want to) do house projects every day because sometimes family projects … dance recitals, ACT testing, and date nights …. feed my main life goals (husband, kids, and happiness) the way flooring or vent covers just simply don’t.

My list? I think I lost it somewhere along the way. Literally. I have no idea where that original list ended up! I made smaller lists, weekly lists, and totally doable daily lists … and I’m not sure I even completed all of those!

But with one week to go until family arrives, my house is neat and organized and ready for guests. My porch is swept and may still get a good power washing. My pantry is ready to fill, and I feel AMAZING.

Because seeking balance has taught me that I am only one person and can only do so much, and that I am okay with that. Living a simpler life (which I have needed a crash course reminder of the past eight months) has helped me sift through what is truly important, what will feed me and make me happier, and what can simply wait.

I still don’t have baseboard moulding. There are still weeds in the flower beds. I don’t have a headboard, I haven’t shampooed bedroom carpets, and I never got around to painting the kitchen cabinets. But when my family arrives we will be well-fed and comfortable. We will laugh, celebrate, relax, and enjoy one another, and I think that was the end goal all along.

The Sounds of Summer

When I was a teenager, I was sure that my mom was crazy. No matter the day she was always the first person up and about in our house. Even on Saturdays … even on long weekends … even in the summer. Gasp! I mean who in their right mind would waste a carefree Saturday that way? Sleep, woman! Get some rest! I know you’re tired! You never stop moving and picking up and putting away and doing! Stay. In. Bed!

We never really talked about it because I was a teenager and therefore knew everything. She was wrong (and crazy), and I was right (and well-rested to boot). End of story.

Fast forward a few much-too-quick decades, and I am 42. I am married with three kids. I work a grown-up job and am often accused of always moving, always picking up, always putting away and doing all the things. And I am also awake this Saturday morning a solid hour before my alarm and at least that amount before my family. Again. It’s become a thing. A habit I didn’t really choose, and that for a time I didn’t really like.

I am now, like my mom, an early riser. And as much as I’d like to sleep in and feel gloriously lazy, these quiet mornings are the only time, I really get to experience one of the most elusive parts of summer.

I could have laid in bed for a while. I could have picked up the novel I’m re-reading, but if I had I wouldn’t have been able to sit on the porch this morning outside an amazingly quiet home listening to the sounds of summer. While the rest of my family sleeps, one million birds sing a chorus in the trees just for me. The wind whispers to me. A tiny bug buzzes past my head. Squirrels chitter in the trees at one another.

There are too many days in the winter when outside is completely still. No signs of life at all, but in the summer, my yard bursts with the only noise that you can only hear in the quiet of the morning.

And it is beautiful.

I may grumble as I realize just how early it is, but once I hear the choir of nature outside my door, I hop up and rush to fill my favorite coffee cup so I can take my place outside and revel in it.

Okay … I know that sounds odd. Rushing out of bed much-too-early just to listen to the birds who really do sing all day, but I only get these few precious moments to enjoy them in the stillness of the day. And my husband shakes his head at me. My kids think I’m crazy.

Maybe being an early riser is a sign that I am getting older.

Maybe it’s genetic.

Or maybe I’m like my crazy mom, and it just took me a while to learn the secret to one of the best concerts nature has to offer.

Maybe it’s all of them … either way I’ve gotta run. I’ve got hot coffee waiting and free tickets to the show.

Happy Summer.