It seems all of the long-term prayer requests in our Sunday school group had changes for the worse this week. The eleven year old fighting adult cancer lost her battle. The two year old they thought was finally on the uphill slope was given less than a year to live. A discouraged soldier. Continued pain for several younger women with chronic illnesses. More relationship problems from a daughter.
"Feel free to share praises, guys," Matt said.
On cue, the door opened and in walked a young family. Husband and wife with their newborn. She was still pregnant when I came back to school a month ago. We pulled out extra chairs for them and they got to sit front row center. The father reached over, grabbed the leg of his wife's chair, pulled it closer to himself, and put his arm around her. I had this sudden overwhelming urge to be that woman. Someday.
We added this family to our list of praises. The general energy of the room lifted upon seeing their tired faces. We began to thank God. We had to do some searching, but we found reasons to be thankful.
What are you thankful for today? Don't be upset if you have to search. Were you healthy enough to get out of bed? Do you have internet access to read this? A roof over your head? Food to eat? Clothes on your back?
Even if you say "no" to all of those things, you can say "yes" to this: you have a God who loves you. Let that be what you are thankful for today. It is enough because His grace is enough.
With love,
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Friday, September 17, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tall and thin isn't great
I normally try to keep the blog a complain-free zone. Today you're going to have to excuse me while I throw a temper tantrum.
"Oh my gosh, you are soooo skinny!"
Every single one of us have said it at some point in time. Please, let's every single one of us erase this sentence from our vocabulary. As well-meaning as it may be, it is often not well-received.
1. You wouldn't walk up to someone who's overweight and say, "Oh my gosh, you are sooooo fat." Would you?
2. A lot of times it's followed up with a concern--either verbally or mentally--about how much the "stick" eats. I understand and appreciate the concern. Eating disorders are a problem in today's society, absolutely. But do you really think your question about how much he/she eats is really the best way to approach the (suspected) problem? I have a close friend who has strugged with an eating disorder. She says comments, even complements, on her weight now are well-meaning but they make her cringe. She hates words like "healthy" and "well" because of the connotations they have, even if those connotations are ones she's put on them.
As someone who has always been skinny, the question about what I eat is down right obnoxious and, frankly, borderline rude. If you want to know about my eating habits, watch me devour a steak dinner. It was delicious the first time. There is no possible way I'd like to taste it a second.
3. "Try finding pants that fit."
That's usually my response to people who feel the need to give me this counter-productive complement. I've written many a blog-rant from fitting rooms as I'm choking back tears of frustrations. It happened again today. Before we left on our shopping excursion, Laura, Mom, and I took measurements. My waist? Yup, ended in a .5. Hips? --.75. Inseam? --.25. It's no wonder clothes don't fit me! We arrived at the store, and I picked out a pair of jeans one .5 larger than my measured waist. They were great... if I were going for a muffin-top look. I searched for pants one size bigger (which is really two sizes since all of the pants were even numbered). Perfect, if I wanted to store a book in the back of my pants. Mom miraculously was able to find the odd number, the middle size. Too small in the front; too big in the back. Just my luck! Discouraged, we left, and I realized I have one alternative to this constant fight: nudist colony.
Please, I beg you, just leave the weight subject alone. If you must make a complement about a physical aspect of a girl's body, pick her hair, her eyes, her smile. Tell her she's beautiful but don't use her weight to justify your opinion.
Thanks for letting me vent. I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you agree or if you think I'm crazy.
<>< Katie
"Oh my gosh, you are soooo skinny!"
Every single one of us have said it at some point in time. Please, let's every single one of us erase this sentence from our vocabulary. As well-meaning as it may be, it is often not well-received.
1. You wouldn't walk up to someone who's overweight and say, "Oh my gosh, you are sooooo fat." Would you?
2. A lot of times it's followed up with a concern--either verbally or mentally--about how much the "stick" eats. I understand and appreciate the concern. Eating disorders are a problem in today's society, absolutely. But do you really think your question about how much he/she eats is really the best way to approach the (suspected) problem? I have a close friend who has strugged with an eating disorder. She says comments, even complements, on her weight now are well-meaning but they make her cringe. She hates words like "healthy" and "well" because of the connotations they have, even if those connotations are ones she's put on them.
As someone who has always been skinny, the question about what I eat is down right obnoxious and, frankly, borderline rude. If you want to know about my eating habits, watch me devour a steak dinner. It was delicious the first time. There is no possible way I'd like to taste it a second.
3. "Try finding pants that fit."
That's usually my response to people who feel the need to give me this counter-productive complement. I've written many a blog-rant from fitting rooms as I'm choking back tears of frustrations. It happened again today. Before we left on our shopping excursion, Laura, Mom, and I took measurements. My waist? Yup, ended in a .5. Hips? --.75. Inseam? --.25. It's no wonder clothes don't fit me! We arrived at the store, and I picked out a pair of jeans one .5 larger than my measured waist. They were great... if I were going for a muffin-top look. I searched for pants one size bigger (which is really two sizes since all of the pants were even numbered). Perfect, if I wanted to store a book in the back of my pants. Mom miraculously was able to find the odd number, the middle size. Too small in the front; too big in the back. Just my luck! Discouraged, we left, and I realized I have one alternative to this constant fight: nudist colony.
Please, I beg you, just leave the weight subject alone. If you must make a complement about a physical aspect of a girl's body, pick her hair, her eyes, her smile. Tell her she's beautiful but don't use her weight to justify your opinion.
Thanks for letting me vent. I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you agree or if you think I'm crazy.
<>< Katie
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Tell Her She's Beautiful
This only blogging every other day has been really hard this week. Just a reminder, I'm updating my blog every other day for Lent. That means this week I'm on a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule; next week it'll be Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday and so on. Oh, and a special thanks to my newest "followers." I logged in and had a new one then refreshed the page and had another new one. I refreshed it again and nothing happened. However, several hours later Hannah joined blogger and my number of followers has almost doubled in one day! :-)
A few weeks ago an anonymous woman wrote encouraging notes and stuck them on the mirrors in every woman's bathroom campus wide. Apparently some people found them cheesy but personally I enjoyed being reminded that the mirror doesn't determine my self-worth. She (whoever the anonymous "she" may be) put a lot of effort into this project because every Post-It note I saw was different. Wow!
Like I said, this was several weeks ago and most of the Post-It notes are now gone. I don't think they were pitched, however. Instead, they're appearing in other bizarre places: on dashboards of cars, stuck to the outside of Moby Dick's fish tank, and on class notebooks. It's as if a girl says, "I need to hear this every single day, so I'm going to take it remember."
I didn't steal a Post-It note. Sure, I throw rants about clothing not being made for people but all in all I'm pretty content with who I am. I don't really struggle with my image, or at least I didn't think so. I don't wear make-up. My wardrobe consists of jeans and a t-shirt day in and day out (remember those clothes not made for people?). I use a mirror but don't spend hours fixing my hair. I really don't care that much. At least I thought I didn't. Until I realized I was only wearing earrings on days when I saw people I wanted to impress. That didn't really bother me. This past Sunday bothered me more.
Allyson and I were invited to sing with my church's choir. Wearing robes. This means all the congregations sees is heads. I actually curled my hair, wore earrings, and put on a full face of make-up (and I'm still paying for it, thank you, dry skin). Since she's learned almost everything I do is intentional and enjoys hearing my bizarre reasons, Allyson asked me why. My answer surprised me.
"If all the congregation can see of me is my face, it might as well be a pretty face."
Woah! This from the girl who doesn't really care?
Later that night, my dress for spring formal arrived. It's the same dress I wore for prom, so I already knew it fit, yet I still had to try it on. As the lavender floor-length dress slid over my head I was transformed from the exhausted college student ready to go to bed into a princess headed to a ball. Five minutes later, the dress came off and the exhaustion returned in an almost-overwhelming wave. I got nothing done for the rest of the night because I let the desire to feel beautiful control me and the pony-tail line in my hair wasn't helping.
Ladies, we all need to feel beautiful now and again. It's natural. But it's not natural for this desire to consume you every being. Sure, some days we feel prettier than others. It's natural, again, if it's not controlling you. The mirror can be cruel but it does not determine who you are. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are beautiful on the inside and out. You won't be more beautiful with your hair curled (or straightened). Guess what: you won't be happy when you Wii Fit's Mii shrinks because you're underweight. Please trust me on this one. Be content in who you are.
Gentlemen, you had better tell her she's beautiful. Not "hot." Not "sexy." Not even "fine" like Andy tried the other day. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Every woman needs to hear she's beautiful. Have you told her today?
"You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you." - Songs of Solomon 4:7
That's God talking to you, friends.
<>< Katie
A few weeks ago an anonymous woman wrote encouraging notes and stuck them on the mirrors in every woman's bathroom campus wide. Apparently some people found them cheesy but personally I enjoyed being reminded that the mirror doesn't determine my self-worth. She (whoever the anonymous "she" may be) put a lot of effort into this project because every Post-It note I saw was different. Wow!
Like I said, this was several weeks ago and most of the Post-It notes are now gone. I don't think they were pitched, however. Instead, they're appearing in other bizarre places: on dashboards of cars, stuck to the outside of Moby Dick's fish tank, and on class notebooks. It's as if a girl says, "I need to hear this every single day, so I'm going to take it remember."
I didn't steal a Post-It note. Sure, I throw rants about clothing not being made for people but all in all I'm pretty content with who I am. I don't really struggle with my image, or at least I didn't think so. I don't wear make-up. My wardrobe consists of jeans and a t-shirt day in and day out (remember those clothes not made for people?). I use a mirror but don't spend hours fixing my hair. I really don't care that much. At least I thought I didn't. Until I realized I was only wearing earrings on days when I saw people I wanted to impress. That didn't really bother me. This past Sunday bothered me more.
Allyson and I were invited to sing with my church's choir. Wearing robes. This means all the congregations sees is heads. I actually curled my hair, wore earrings, and put on a full face of make-up (and I'm still paying for it, thank you, dry skin). Since she's learned almost everything I do is intentional and enjoys hearing my bizarre reasons, Allyson asked me why. My answer surprised me.
"If all the congregation can see of me is my face, it might as well be a pretty face."
Woah! This from the girl who doesn't really care?
Later that night, my dress for spring formal arrived. It's the same dress I wore for prom, so I already knew it fit, yet I still had to try it on. As the lavender floor-length dress slid over my head I was transformed from the exhausted college student ready to go to bed into a princess headed to a ball. Five minutes later, the dress came off and the exhaustion returned in an almost-overwhelming wave. I got nothing done for the rest of the night because I let the desire to feel beautiful control me and the pony-tail line in my hair wasn't helping.
Ladies, we all need to feel beautiful now and again. It's natural. But it's not natural for this desire to consume you every being. Sure, some days we feel prettier than others. It's natural, again, if it's not controlling you. The mirror can be cruel but it does not determine who you are. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are beautiful on the inside and out. You won't be more beautiful with your hair curled (or straightened). Guess what: you won't be happy when you Wii Fit's Mii shrinks because you're underweight. Please trust me on this one. Be content in who you are.
Gentlemen, you had better tell her she's beautiful. Not "hot." Not "sexy." Not even "fine" like Andy tried the other day. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Every woman needs to hear she's beautiful. Have you told her today?
"You are altogether beautiful, My love; there is no flaw in you." - Songs of Solomon 4:7
That's God talking to you, friends.
<>< Katie
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Concierge Adam
Today is Adam's birthday, and even though he doesn't read this blog, I feel compelled to write him a birthday blog. Yesterday my suitemates were taking turnings asking if they were in my blog. Without thinking, I could answer yes. Then it was Adam's turn, and I hesitated. Most of my funny memories with Adam are eye glances and smiles that cannot be explained in words. It's like we understood something no one else did but cannot voice our thoughts. How do you blog to explain why I just shot him a dirty look for closing the door?
Last September, we were just getting used to living in a new building with co-ed laundry facilities. Nikki had left her laundry in the drying a bit too long and returned to find them folded. In a panic, she walked into the breezeway,
"A BOY FOLDED MY CLOTHES!!" She shouted, wearing her hamper on her head and waving her hands for emphasis. This fiasco created quite a spectacle.
"How do you know it was a boy?" Everyone asked.
"Because! The underwear is folded on top. A girl would NEVER leave another girl's underwear on top. Girls ALWAYS know to tuck the underwear inside the top shirt. It's just common courtesy."
This became a major discussion for the next several hours.
"Oh, those were your clothes I folded," Adam fessed up when he heard Nikki's rampage about a boy folding her clothes.
"ADAM TOUCHED MY PANTIES!" She shouted loud enough for the entire building to hear. Of course, everyone loved to tease about Adam and Nikki's panties.
A few weeks later, Adam left clothes unfolded in the dryer and waited for the owner to return to reclaim the clothes and vacate the dryer.
"I got fussed at last time I tried to fold someone's clothes," he explained.
One afternoon, Allyson, Adam, and I were playing Rack-O on the floor in the living room. Elizabeth was in the kitchen chopping an apple with her back to us.
"How was the end of your book?" Adam asked.
"I don't know. Well, you see, this person that was dead isn't dead anymore. And now there was this prophesy about Percy, and we don't know if that's good or bad..." She explained for literally five straight minutes with an elaborate plot summary.
"Oh?" Adam asked "What do you think about that?"
"I don't really know. I like that the person who was dead isn't dead anymore, I think, but Percy..." she continued for five more minutes before finally turning around to face us.
Much to her surprise, Adam, Allyson, and I were all trying really hard to stifle our laughter. We were expecting a simple, "It turned out well" or "I want to read the next book in the series" or "I didn't like the ending" and instead got a detailed plot summary followed by Elizabeth's thoughts on the novel.
Yes, Adam egged her on, but she thought he was genuinely interested in the novel. While we all found this hilarious, she was "offended" and stormed to her bedroom for a few hours. :-) We joke about it now, though. Periodically we'll ask for a Percy update and she just go "Humph!"
I love it when Adam and Allyson go on "dates" but can't get off campus because it often involves them cleaning our living room. Luckily, our fussing hasn't stopped him from doing our dishes, emptying our garbage, and tidying up our living room.
Happy birthday, Concierge Adam! Thanks for your willingness to serve, your witty humor, and how comfortable you make yourself in our apartment.
<>< Katie
Last September, we were just getting used to living in a new building with co-ed laundry facilities. Nikki had left her laundry in the drying a bit too long and returned to find them folded. In a panic, she walked into the breezeway,
"A BOY FOLDED MY CLOTHES!!" She shouted, wearing her hamper on her head and waving her hands for emphasis. This fiasco created quite a spectacle.
"How do you know it was a boy?" Everyone asked.
"Because! The underwear is folded on top. A girl would NEVER leave another girl's underwear on top. Girls ALWAYS know to tuck the underwear inside the top shirt. It's just common courtesy."
This became a major discussion for the next several hours.
"Oh, those were your clothes I folded," Adam fessed up when he heard Nikki's rampage about a boy folding her clothes.
"ADAM TOUCHED MY PANTIES!" She shouted loud enough for the entire building to hear. Of course, everyone loved to tease about Adam and Nikki's panties.
A few weeks later, Adam left clothes unfolded in the dryer and waited for the owner to return to reclaim the clothes and vacate the dryer.
"I got fussed at last time I tried to fold someone's clothes," he explained.
One afternoon, Allyson, Adam, and I were playing Rack-O on the floor in the living room. Elizabeth was in the kitchen chopping an apple with her back to us.
"How was the end of your book?" Adam asked.
"I don't know. Well, you see, this person that was dead isn't dead anymore. And now there was this prophesy about Percy, and we don't know if that's good or bad..." She explained for literally five straight minutes with an elaborate plot summary.
"Oh?" Adam asked "What do you think about that?"
"I don't really know. I like that the person who was dead isn't dead anymore, I think, but Percy..." she continued for five more minutes before finally turning around to face us.
Much to her surprise, Adam, Allyson, and I were all trying really hard to stifle our laughter. We were expecting a simple, "It turned out well" or "I want to read the next book in the series" or "I didn't like the ending" and instead got a detailed plot summary followed by Elizabeth's thoughts on the novel.
Yes, Adam egged her on, but she thought he was genuinely interested in the novel. While we all found this hilarious, she was "offended" and stormed to her bedroom for a few hours. :-) We joke about it now, though. Periodically we'll ask for a Percy update and she just go "Humph!"
I love it when Adam and Allyson go on "dates" but can't get off campus because it often involves them cleaning our living room. Luckily, our fussing hasn't stopped him from doing our dishes, emptying our garbage, and tidying up our living room.
Happy birthday, Concierge Adam! Thanks for your willingness to serve, your witty humor, and how comfortable you make yourself in our apartment.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Clothing
"I'm joining a nudist colony," I announced to my mother this afternoon.
"Um... Ok. Why?"
I spent two hours traveling through every clothing store in the mall, and I came home with four books and a new contacts perscription. Everything I tried on at had something wrong with it: This shirt makes me think of Grandpa, what's with the bows?, it looks like a checkerboard, if I wanted jeans with holes in them I'd wear the ones I have, yeah that's nice but move and boom FREE SHOW!... On and on and on for two hours.
Dressing modestly in today's world is a challenge. To put it lightly. Sure, there's always the popular potato sack, but really how can one run in a potato sack?
"Um... Ok. Why?"
I spent two hours traveling through every clothing store in the mall, and I came home with four books and a new contacts perscription. Everything I tried on at had something wrong with it: This shirt makes me think of Grandpa, what's with the bows?, it looks like a checkerboard, if I wanted jeans with holes in them I'd wear the ones I have, yeah that's nice but move and boom FREE SHOW!... On and on and on for two hours.
Dressing modestly in today's world is a challenge. To put it lightly. Sure, there's always the popular potato sack, but really how can one run in a potato sack?
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Twas the Night Before Christmas...
Today was a pretty close to miserable day. It took me a over an hour to do a drive that should take less than 45. I dropped my sister off at the movie theater and had a nice lunch with a friend. We sat down, and he teased that it was going to take him an hour to eat, but I didn't need to feel compelled to stay that long. Well, his food was finish and our conversation still raging in full gear.
After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.
It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.
While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.
My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.
Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.
Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!
Ok, awful day, eh?
So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).
At least the virtual world likes me.
Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.
I hope your day was better than mine!
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.
<>< Katie
After lunch, I pulled back into the theater parking lot just as the movie ended. We then had to go to the mall. One day before Christmas. In a blizzard. Puke.
It was very easy for me to say, "If the glasses people hadn't broken my glasses the first time they tried to fix them, I could just go home now and finish making Christmas cookies. Wrap the presents? Oh, yeah, gotta do that, too." No. I had to be sitting in the mall... for an hour... while they replaced the lens of my glasses and then tried to tell me I needed to pay for it. In reality, they broke it, and eventually they replaced the lens for free.
While I was stalling for an hour, I ran over to a department store looking for a specific item. Well, apparently they don't make the size I need. Surprise, surprise. My entire body doesn't fit into the sizes made. Shoes, pants, shirts, you name it... it doesn't fit properly... After many hours (or at least many, many minutes) of searching, a sales associate approached me and asked if I was finding everything alright. I answered honestly (no) and told her what I was looking for. She then tried to convince me I needed to sign up for a charge card for that particular store. Well, if I can't find the product I want, why do I need to save money by signing up for a card? I told her no literally four different times. She then went to find another sales associate to ask if they make the size I was looking for. The second associate said no without offering any other suggestion. I walked away in frustration, and I heard the two sales associates making jokes. Maybe they weren't directed at me, maybe they were just having fun, but I highly doubt it. Needless to say, I promptly left the store.
My sister and I left the mall and I asked her where the package was. Her boyfriend is coming for Christmas and I didn't know what to get him, so she was going to go buy something while I was picking up my glasses. Well, apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for, so she bought nothing. Now I have no present for Boy. For tomorrow. Crap.
Drove home. Yeah, let's plow the roads.
Found a message waiting for me from a friend who wants to get together before break is over. Well, I had most of last week free, but she couldn't do anything. Now I'm booked and she's moderately free. I really, really want to get together with her, but there seems to be no time. It's frustrating!
Ok, awful day, eh?
So I come home, wrap the presents I do have (I figured out something for Boy), and took out my anger on our Wii. I bowled a 168! That's a personal record for me. I then upped my skills level on Wii Tennis to 606 (We've had this game for two days...).
At least the virtual world likes me.
Although, my shoulder wants to kill me.
I hope your day was better than mine!
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow we remember the Savior of the world entering His creation in the form of an infant. Not just any infant, but an infant who was born in a stinky, smelly stable to a carpenter and his teenage wife-to-be. Perhaps my situation wasn't the only one that's less than perfect.
<>< Katie
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Welcome to my Nightmare
I went shopping today. I haven't done laundry in a month and my clothes still need to be pushed down in order for the drawers to close completely. I need new clothes like I need a hole in the head. There were a few things I needed like a new Pastor Mike swimsuit (another story for another day) and a pair of sandals, but really I didn't need to be at the store. It turned out to be a really (really) comical mother-daughter bonding time that I'm grateful for but shopping today hurt, too.
I'm in the fitting room going through my normal mental rant about how they don't make clothes for people. Sure, it looks great on the manikin, but come on. How am I supposed to honor God with clothes like this? That's not very flattering, but look, two of me could fit in the next size up. This isn't working! I literally tried on ten pair of shorts and none of them fit. Talk about depressing! All of the sudden, from a neighboring fitting room I hear a girl (probably in her early teens maybe) screamed,
"NOTHING FITS!"
Amen, Sista I said in my head (ok, not quite, but pretty close).
"I HATE THIS STORE!" Either there were tears streaming down this poor girls face or she's a really good actress. I heard her friends laughing in another dressing room. "YOU GUYS DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING EVER FITS!"
"Welcome to the story of my life," I wanted to say aloud.
This girl broke my heart. Maybe it was that she was experiencing the same problem I was. I don't know how many articles of clothing she tried on. I don't know why they don't fit. I do know she was frustrated to the point of tears. Chances are, she's not going to go home and forget about her experience in the fitting room today. Today could be the day she stops eating because she thinks she's too fat. If clothes were made for real people, maybe we wouldn't have so many young girls suffering from anorexia and bulimia. Just a thought.
<>< Katie
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
I'm in the fitting room going through my normal mental rant about how they don't make clothes for people. Sure, it looks great on the manikin, but come on. How am I supposed to honor God with clothes like this? That's not very flattering, but look, two of me could fit in the next size up. This isn't working! I literally tried on ten pair of shorts and none of them fit. Talk about depressing! All of the sudden, from a neighboring fitting room I hear a girl (probably in her early teens maybe) screamed,
"NOTHING FITS!"
Amen, Sista I said in my head (ok, not quite, but pretty close).
"I HATE THIS STORE!" Either there were tears streaming down this poor girls face or she's a really good actress. I heard her friends laughing in another dressing room. "YOU GUYS DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING EVER FITS!"
"Welcome to the story of my life," I wanted to say aloud.
This girl broke my heart. Maybe it was that she was experiencing the same problem I was. I don't know how many articles of clothing she tried on. I don't know why they don't fit. I do know she was frustrated to the point of tears. Chances are, she's not going to go home and forget about her experience in the fitting room today. Today could be the day she stops eating because she thinks she's too fat. If clothes were made for real people, maybe we wouldn't have so many young girls suffering from anorexia and bulimia. Just a thought.
<>< Katie
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
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