I would like to consider myself body-positive or, on a bad day, body-neutral. Still, the idea of cleaning out my wardrobe always sends me into a state of despair.
Like most women, I choose to torture myself by keeping clothes and underwear that no longer fit me.
They languish in the back of my wardrobe and the bottom of my drawers, mocking me. A reminder that my body isn't the same as it used to be.
Embarrassingly, I've lugged these clothes from share house to share house and eventually, now my own place.