Day 6: Jaded Beauty

Day 6.  Jaded beauty.  Has the world's definition of beauty ever jaded you?

Meh, I'd have to say every time I go shopping. 

No really. 

I'm not the tiny, stick-thin kind of girl you see strutting the runways. There's nothing wrong at all with being thin or being a super model, but it often feels like clothes are MADE for that body type and not any other. Thin is a matter of perspective, and the super-model figure seems to be the only point-of-view designers take when putting new creations on the sales floor. They should come with a label: 

Do Not Try On if You Have Any Fat On Your Body at ALL. Your Self Esteem Has Been Warned.

It took me a year to find a new pair of jeans that fit both my waist, my thighs, and the honky tonk badonkadonk. A. Year.

It seems we woman are obsessed with our weight, even if we're tiny we still worry about being fat. My sis-in-law is 5'2", 95 pounds, and worries about gaining weight.  What happened to the Renaissance beautiful woman who had curves? Who had cellulite? And was portrayed in every form of art as the ideal. WHERE DID SHE GO??? 

Then, the clothing industry assumes (and we all know what they say about what happens when you "assume") that if you've got it, you want to flaunt it. Modesty? That was for Laura Ingalls Wilder and her Little House on the Prairie. A Dead Concept. Grow up, move on. It's the twenty-first century for gosh sakes. Show a little skin . . . or all of it. Take your pick.

And if I believe in a thing called modesty? What do you have to offer me?

In high school, my self esteem was outrageously low. Why? Because God gave me curves, and I hated them. None of the boys at school would look at me or talk to me. Unless, that is, their English homework was in jeopardy. I blamed my body. I blamed the fact that I had a booty where the other girls did not. I thought if I could just get skinny, just loose that offensive behind, I would win the favor of high school males. Now, we all know high school males are not at all the most evolved of human beings, but don't tell that to a fifteen-year-old girl. Staring in the mirror, trying not to cry, trying desperately to figure out what was so wrong that no one would give her a glance.

Here's the bottom line: God made each of us an individual, a beautiful wonderful individual who doesn't look like anyone else. Who has a purpose no one else can fill. I find it humorously ironic that society's biggest war cry is "BE AN INDIVIDUAL!!!" and yet it demands "But make sure you're doing the just like everybody else." Double standard? Maybe?

God looks down on you and cries, "Look! Look what I made! Isn't she fantastic! Have you ever seen anything like her! It's perfect! I love her!"

My husband looks at me and tells me that I look like a woman. He actually sulks when I talk about dieting.

So, forget the clothing industry. Forget Hollywood. Listen to the people who love you. They're not just saying it because they have to. They are speaking beauty to you because you are.