Cleaning out the closet is an extra-large task

Facing the scale after not just one, but two, thanks-gorging meals was daunting. But stepping on it — and finding out I'd gained a few pounds — wasn't the toughest task on my recent suck-it-up-and-do-it list.

I also had to face (cue scary music) "The Dreaded Closet."

Eeeeeeeeeek!

Granted, there are worse times to check out your wardrobe — namely, after you've gained so much weight that things don't fit like they used to. You know this has happened in my household when I start saying things like:

"Honey, did you wash my shirts in hot water? They've shrunk!"

Or ...

"Think anybody at church will notice if I wear my comfy black sweats instead of those black slacks that are way too tigh ... , er, in the dirty laundry?"

Or ...

"I'm going to attempt to button this (fill-in-the-blank piece of clothing) all the way. EVERYBODY TAKE COVER!"

Fortunately, my problem now that I've lost about 160 pounds is pretty much the exact opposite. This time, I didn't outgrow my clothes. They outgrew me.

Cleaning out my closet was a symbolic way of moving on from my plumper past and committing myself to never fit into those extended sizes again.

One thing's for certain — it's definitely good that my movie collection doesn't resemble my clothing collection. Most items ranged from 1XL to 3XL.

The majority of my old pants — at least the ones my thunder thighs didn't destroy in the past decade — were between sizes 42 and 48. The largest pair I found were a size 52 and stretchy. Those were my SUV slacks — huge, built for power not speed, and loaded with options such as an expandable midsection and cup holders.

And, yes, I kept those for that obligatory hold-up-the-old-fat-pants "after photo" that I'll take after hitting my goal in 45 or so pounds.

Trying on the "skinny, goal jeans" I bought years ago was fun. They're size 36 — and I didn't even have to warn everybody to TAKE COVER! Funny how they're not exactly as stylish as they once were and how I'm not as "skinny" as I thought I would be when they finally fit.

I did, of course, model them for my wife. It was a rare moment when a guy was the one asking, "Does my butt look big in these pants?"

The answer?

"Heck no! Your behind looks great!!! The pants just look like they've been washed in really hot water."

(Admission time: My wife really didn't say that. But my derriere really did look great!!!)

Going through and getting rid of shirts was tough. I spent a ton of money on those big-boy polos and sweaters. And it felt like I was throwing away memories by giving up multi-XL T-shirts from places I've traveled to — from Memphis (mmm, ribs!) to Jackson Hole (mmm, moose!).