We lived in Lithuania for five months from three sort of big suit cases, one medium duffle, two carry-ons and two backpacks for computers, etc. We did each buy a few things at the Humana (Goodwill), light jackets, a sweater or two, and a couple of shirts at the mall to replace things that had just been washed to death. Finding those replacements in the land of the tall and slim was tricky. Thank goodness for the pudgy expats who donated things when they returned to the US.
I wouldn't say we were fashion plates, but we were acceptable. I wasted some of my suitcase space by straying from my black, navy and white scheme to include a couple of patterned tops. I thought they would add interest, and they did until I got so sick of them that I could not put them on my body. That happened in early March, I think. If only I had followed the late Elizabeth Edward's advice that one never regrets choosing solids, I would have been better off.
Now we are home, in a house where all the closets look like Fibber McGee and Molly's hall closet. They wouldn't be so stuffed if I didn't have three sizes of clothes for each of us in them - South Beach size, It Wouldn't Hurt to Stray from South Beach Just a Little size, and If It Looks Good Eat It size.
I came home full of good intentions, both to drag us back into the world of South Beach, which really is a pretty good place, and to get rid of the sizes that don't fit. So, I started pulling things our of the closets for us to try on. We discovered that Del, who had been relying on his suspenders to keep him from mooning Klaipeda rather than as a fashion statement, now fits into the next size down pants, and I can wear some pants that didn't quite fit before we left home. So, to quote our friend, "What to do, what to do?"
I think I will do as that famous fictional Georgian did and think about it tomorrow.
I wouldn't say we were fashion plates, but we were acceptable. I wasted some of my suitcase space by straying from my black, navy and white scheme to include a couple of patterned tops. I thought they would add interest, and they did until I got so sick of them that I could not put them on my body. That happened in early March, I think. If only I had followed the late Elizabeth Edward's advice that one never regrets choosing solids, I would have been better off.
Now we are home, in a house where all the closets look like Fibber McGee and Molly's hall closet. They wouldn't be so stuffed if I didn't have three sizes of clothes for each of us in them - South Beach size, It Wouldn't Hurt to Stray from South Beach Just a Little size, and If It Looks Good Eat It size.
I came home full of good intentions, both to drag us back into the world of South Beach, which really is a pretty good place, and to get rid of the sizes that don't fit. So, I started pulling things our of the closets for us to try on. We discovered that Del, who had been relying on his suspenders to keep him from mooning Klaipeda rather than as a fashion statement, now fits into the next size down pants, and I can wear some pants that didn't quite fit before we left home. So, to quote our friend, "What to do, what to do?"
I think I will do as that famous fictional Georgian did and think about it tomorrow.
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