Old jeans...

Way up on the top shelf of my closet, in the farthest corner.
There they were... my favorite jeans.

They haven't fit for more than a decade, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them. So I stashed them out of sight, not willing to completely give up hope. I put each size in a separate stack, neatly labeled, where I could see them and remember, where they could help me stay motivated.

I love my new shape, that my hips are narrower and my relaxed-fit jeans are no longer the right shape for me. That I can run my hands from waist to thigh and there isn't a bulge there. That I have a waist again.

In April I started wearing my size 14 jeans, and moved a stack of jeans to the Goodwill pile. In May, my favorite Eddie Bauer jeans, slimmer and high-waisted, fit perfectly. I bought a new pair of cropped jeans, a size 12, the first time I've been in this size since 2004. Soon my Gap jeans will fit, my most favorite jeans of all.

And it's not just the jeans. I've dug out favorite summer dresses and favorite sweaters, cotton camp shirts, jackets and wool slacks, two favorite jean skirts. Things I couldn't bear to give away, things that now fit me again. Things I can love, all over again.