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I beg your indulgence. I fear I am going mad. The fashion world is making all styles smaller than usual, and my washing machine seems to be shrinking everything else, even those items I've never washed.

There is noise emanating from my bedroom. Yes, it is true. My clothes want to go back in the closet. They have revolted. Not simply because I stretch them to distraction. They whisper about my fickleness, and they take it personally.

They are not wrong when they talk of me forgetting them whenever I purchase something new that does not cut off circulation.

It is true. I can love my outfit, not be seen without it off my back for weeks, but alas, as soon as another catches my fancy and fits my fanny, well frankly, the others no longer exist in my memory.

Hello. My name is Jan and I am A CLOTHES SLUT.

At this moment a sailor outfit wants out. It claims white is not my color, and it is quite militant about that. I have pleaded and cajoled, but I know the rage it is experiencing is actually from neglect. Aside from the fact that I just bought a big-boy combat shirt at an Army surplus store and I am blinded by love for this kaki cookie, the sailor blouse is a size 6. I have not been a size 6 since, well since I was six!

I'm thinking of loaning it to my petite friend as a foster outfit, to live with her until I am able to use kale as my primary food source till my old clothes are no longer noisy and vengeful. I have not had a good night's sleep in ages. The clothes are loudly vindictive. They purposely fall off hangers, cling to one another or play hide and seek when I am in a hurry.

Fortunately, I am now seeing a clothing counselor.

Dr. Plink, the shrink, (although why they are called that I'll never know since I am the same size since I began therapy) thought it best that I go on a journey alone to find myself. I packed my shirt and left a note for the clothes. I am on my way to me land, and I do not have a map.

Hey, don't blame me for my heft. It is said that television makes us appear 10 pounds heavier. I have three.

Thirty pounds of fake fat, perhaps an optical illusion. Still, I am on a train for Katemoss Mountain to find answers and maybe a cupcake.

(Perhaps soon my one-size-fits-all pantyhose will no longer fall on their knees begging for mercy).

- Jan Marshall

Jan Marshall has devoted her life's work to humor and healing through books, columns and motivational speaking. As founder of the International Humor & Healing Institute, she worked with board members Norman Cousins, Steve Allen and other physicians and entertainers, including John Cleese. Her newest satirical survival book, Dancin' Schmancin' with the Scars: Finding the Humor No Matter What! is dedicated to Wounded Warriors, Gabrielle Giffords and Grieving Parents. She donates a percentage of the profits to these organizations as well as to the American Cancer Society and the American Brain Tumor Association.