Previously, I’ve admitted in this blog that I’m a bit of a gambler. I enjoy the occasional trip to the casinos, and I spend a little time in Las Vegas or Reno every couple of years. But today I’m disclosing that my penchant for rolling the dice goes beyond the grocery store scratch ticket and has been secreted away in my “spare closet” for years.

Yes, that’s right—I’m guilty of buying clothes “on speculation.”

The idea that I’ll lose weight (starting January 1, the first of any month, or “next Monday”) and wear these clothes has been ever-present in my consciousness during the 29 ½ years I’ve owned my home.

So for 29 ½ years I’ve squirreled away quite a few items I just couldn’t resist. And last week, having spent the past month at my goal weight, I finally decided to sort through all those blouses and see just what treasures were crammed in there.

First thing I the morning I made two piles: 1) things that fit! and 2) things that were (amazingly) too big, and would be given to the thrift shop.

And then I spent the whole rest of the day trying on clothes. I swear, there should be a 12-step support group for people who hate to try on clothes. But I did it anyway, cause there’s absolutely no consistency in women’s clothing sizes.

The most difficult thing I had to do was put some very attractive blouses, size 12 or 14, into the “too large” pile, while others, with tags sporting much higher numbers, fit just right.

At the end of the day, I hauled five large white kitchen trash bags stuffed with clothing out to the garage to drop off at the thrift shop. Now everything hanging in that closet fits me, and I’ve got a whole new “wearable today” wardrobe, size 8 to 2X.

Go figure.