Bad Body Image

So I'm sure most of us have felt unhappy with our bodies at some point or another. I wonder if you can pinpoint the moment it all began.

For me it all began in sixth grade. The end of sixth grade to be specific. I was sitting in the auditorium at rehearsal for "graduation" and we were all alphabetized and nervous and excited when the boy sitting next to me felt the need to say, "Wow, you have really big legs!"

Now I know that kids are cruel and all of that. I also won't pretend that all of my problems can be blamed on a sixth grader, it's just a little strange that this moment is burned into my brain: one exact moment when I discovered I wasn't perfect.

I was raised in a home where we were taught that "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Well, we were taught that but of course growing up as one of four kids, you hear occasionally that your odor is less than appealing or your face resembles the dogs' behind, but overall...

Here's the weird thing: in sixth grade, I wasn't even overweight. I was always comfortable with my appearance because nobody had ever given me a reason to feel otherwise. It's cliche-ish, but why do we feel that we need to package everyone into the same little mold? My dad likes to say that if you put two kids in a sandbox, they'll play. They don't care about skin color or religious affiliation, they just want you to share the bucket and shovel. So are we taught to judge people? How? And how can it be avoided?

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Ooh, something else. I've got a weird nose. I never knew it was weird until somebody told me, "You've got a weird nose." And I was reeeealy self-conscious about it until I discovered that it's not weird, it's my dads. (Sorry, Dad, you've got a weird nose.) And now I like it.

So I'm wondering when you discovered you weren't perfect. Or maybe you ARE perfect. Let's chat, best beloved.


Me and my dad and our noses. I'm okay with that.

I'm Thinking...

...it's a good thing I'm not omnipotent. Folks have been taking advantage of our church's benevolence. We've been robbed, had a car in our parking lot broken into during a church service and had liars come among us pretending to be in need in search of money. Don't get me wrong, if there is a genuine need, we are more than happy to assist.

Last night a girl came to the church saying that she needed money for gas. Steven, being the realist that he is, told her he would not give her cash, but he'd go to the gas station with her and purchase the gas for her. She agreed, saying she'd meet us there. We proceeded to drive, about 20 minutes out of our way, to have her never show up. We learned that her husband is a drug addict and she's swindled folks from our church before.

Part of me wants to call down curses on her and her kind. Part of me is saddened to know that there are people for whom nothing is sacred. Not the caring spirit of a group of people who want to help. Not the words of our God who tells us as Christians that we're to help those in need. How dare people take advantage of that?

Right now the cursing side of me is winning out. God grant me the ability to forgive those that do us wrong.