Dirty Laundry

I hate laundry. I hate the piles of laundry on my bathroom floor. I hate the spoiled laundry in my washing machine that I forgot to put into the dryer the night before. I hate spending money on detergent. I hate treating stains. I hate matching socks. I hate ironing. I hate putting clean clothes away.

But my kids? They LOVE laundry "day" (day being a general term as this "day" often exceeds a 24 hour period). They love to push baskets of dirty clothes to the laundry room. They love making the washing machine their "hoop" and the dirty clothes their "bee-kit ball". They love filling the dryer with wet clothes. And they absolutely love climbing on the mountain of laundry that awaits folding.

Many of their play time hours revolve around this monstrous pile of laundry on my couch. Two weeks ago it was their castle. Last week, their wall filled with pipes that needed "fixin'". This week, a cliff to jump off of into the water (the floor). They simply love laundry day. They don't view laundry as tiresome, an eyesore, or just another "to do". Their perspective (which, yes, is innocent because they really don't have the responsibility like I do) allows them to enjoy something that their Mama so thoroughly despises.

While true literally, each of us also has figurative dirty laundry. It is a fact of life:  there will be adversity. Mountains of troubles. Stains of transgressions. Stench of afflictions.

One of my biggest "dirty laundry" moments has been cancer. I have now dealt with thyroid cancer twice in the last two and a half years. The first time I was diagnosed I had a "bring it" attitude. I was upbeat. I was peace-filled. "Bring It On". I fought that cancer. I learned from that cancer. I put that cancer behind me. Or so I thought.

When residual cancer was found in my neck after my newest babe was born I was devastated. I had the world's hardest newborn and I had cancer. Again. What the heck? Who does that? Why me? What was God thinking? I was angry. I was in denial. To make matters worse I had postpartum hormones surging through my body and past knowledge of how hard surgery and radiation can be. I was no longer naive to the trial of cancer. I was no longer naive of how much harder a newborn was going to get before he got easier.

I felt beat physically, emotionally and spiritually. My perspective, my outlook, was poor. The lessons came slower and much, much harder. The peace was fleeting. The fears were overwhelming. I was Mrs. Pessimism (and, on some days, rightly so)!

It wasn't until two weeks after my surgery that I met a lady at church named Jane. She had sought me out because she had just had a diagnosis of thyroid cancer. She wanted to know my story. She wanted my advice. She needed my experiences in order to get the help she needed.

After conversing with Jane my heart broke and soared all at once. I mourned for her and the trials she was about to experience. But there was a pep in my step knowing that I had helped her in a small way. In that moment, my perspective shifted. I once again embraced the adversity. I thought an exhausted "bring it on if it means I can help someone else." From that day this journey has been easier. I still find my chest constricting with worry over next week's appointment where I find out if I need another round of radioactive iodine. But good has come from my trials thus far. This will continue if I will but believe in God, in myself, and in this eternal plan that I am walking.

My "dirty laundry" is being made clean. It's hard work. But I'm tackling that mountain by focusing on my perspective--the one thing I can control.

To read more about my journey with Papillary Thyroid Cancer i n 2011 click HERE.

The Skin You're In

This week's topic was-

"Swimsuit Season: Modesty and Self Image".

While our authors struggled to tackle such an overwhelmingly powerful (and broad!) topic, many of our readers were also putting their thoughts into words.  We asked for you to share your point of view- and we had several awesome ladies step up to the challenge.

(In case you missed our author's posts this week, you can click the "Swimsuit Season" label at the top of this blog, or click their names here:  Jenny    Jessica    Sarah   Bianca   Faye   Mandi )

Here we have listed some of our favorite contributions.  

Be sure to check them all out by clicking on their titles.

Share your favorites and comment with your point of view!

Self Image: The Lessons We Learn

Debbie Shares how self image, sometimes painful, follows us throughout our lives and is something we need to address with our daughters.

Not only guest blogging with us today, Debbie is also the managing editor of her local mom's blog.

  (tampabaymomsblog.com)

Bodies

Leah writes from the perspective of a former fashion blogger, and someone who has given a lot of thought to the topic of Self-Image.

She guest posts for us today, and in addition to her personal blog- writes a blog about shopping ethically and responsibly.

(wisestyle.wordpress.com)

More Than a Hemline: Why the debate on modesty is starting to bug me.  and The Hemline Wars

Sharon shared this two-part post on our facebook page.  In these posts- Sharon addresses the modesty issue from multiple perspectives.

There are some truly awesome points made throughout Sharon's posts- and already some great comments being made by readers.  Take some time to join the discussion and leave your own comment!

Holes in her pants

As a middle school teacher and mother of two teenage boys, Julieanne writes her post with justified concern for our youth and their future.  She voices some of the concerns many parents have had (or will have) as their children go through that critical "coming of age" time period in their lives.

Julieanne is also the amazing and talented author of the new book Uprooted. This novel is geared toward young-adult readers, but deals with issues we can all relate to and appreciate. Check it out!

Modesty & Me

I admit I don't know what to say about this topic. I was raised in an LDS home, where discussing modesty was very common, my parents had four daughters and wanted to make sure we knew how to dress appropriately. It's common knowledge that Mormons tend to cover more of their bodies than others, and since that's what makes them happy I think it's great. Heck I think women who wear a Hijab are fantastic if it's what they want to do.

In High school I started to pull away from the church for many different and very personal reasons, I'm now no longer active in the LDS faith. That brought on it's own set of troubles and still does at times. When I would go home to visit family I'd throw on a tank top like I usually do just to second guess myself "I have a baby now, I'm married, should I be showing my shoulders? Will my neighbors from church think less of me? Will it bug my family?" I never had these thoughts when I was in my own home around friends that weren't raised the way I was. But in Utah visiting family I was afraid of them judging me. Nothing is worse than the people whose opinion matters the most to you saying you're doing something wrong. In Kansas I would go to the pool with my daughter in a Bikini because it made me happy, I was comfortable wearing a two piece. Did I care what other men thought? No. I wasn't doing it for attention, I was doing it because it made me feel good about myself, it was comfortable and in my opinion not immodest in any way. What I wore was nobody's business but mine. Well, as long as it covered the essentials and didn't get me arrested! Ha ha. Yet, when I got home to put up pictures of things we'd been doing that summer, I hesitated. I picked through the pictures, not wanting to post any of me in a bikini because that wasn't "right". 

Nobody should feel judged for the way they want to dress themselves. In my opinion Modesty is more about culture. In the LDS culture I was taught revealing the stomach is frowned upon. Much like revealing the face is frowned upon among Muslims. It's cultural, religious, and personal.

As the mother of two daughters I do want to be a good example, and I don't want my girls leaving the house in clothes that barely cover them. I will teach them to respect themselves, but I will also teach them to be true to themselves and not worry about others opinions. I went through a phase as a teenager where I was trying to figure out who I was, a big part of that was the way I dressed myself. I would go get my hair done, maybe throw in some pink because I thought it was cute. I felt happy as I left the salon, I loved my new hair. But there were people who would judge anyone that didn't fit the mold of how they thought people should dress, and it was hard. I don't want my girls to ever feel that way. I don't want them to care so much about what other people think that it completely changes their opinions of themselves. I want them to be confident and know that the way they dress doesn't change who they are.

I guess the bottom line when it comes to modesty for me is dress in a way you're comfortable, dress in a way that makes you feel as though you are respecting your body. And don't be ashamed of it. Eventually I decided to stop worrying about offending others. I'm not a bad person because I choose to dress the way I do, just as someone else isn't weird for choosing to wear as much as a long sleeved full length scuba suit to the beach if they want. I say do what makes you feel good about yourself. I can't describe the sense of freedom I felt when I decided to let go of all those worries and just be me. And guess what? My family didn't care, my friends don't like me any less. Just be you and stop hiding behind what you think society, family and friends think you should be. 

Putting My Best Foot Forward

A much newer version of my shoes.

There is a special pair of shoes in my closet right now. They fit me well. I’ve had them for about 13 years.  I can’t bear to part with them although I do not wear them very often anymore. I’ve worn them on sunny days, rainy days, snowy days…many days. I’ve walked miles and miles in them…and yes, even uphill, in the snow. And up until a short time ago, I never thought about how they really looked after years of wear. To me, they still seemed to be in pretty good shape.

A few years ago, I wore them while I was pregnant with Mini-me and teaching five periods of high school Spanish. I jumped up and down in them while trying to get my teenage students’ attention. I stomped my feet in them. Heck, I played hop scotch and double dutch in them. Then one day, a couple of my wonderful students scoffed at my shoes. “Why do you wear those ugly, old shoes, Mrs. K.”?  one student asked me. “They’re frumpy and out of style”, another lovely and of course, ever tactful student replied. I smirked at the thought of my teenage students giving me fashion tips. We all laughed together. “I like them! I feel comfortable in them. They keep my toes warm and I can walk forever in them…now, tell me to ‘get rid of the shoes’ in Spanish and I’ll consider it”, I replied.

They never could say it right…and I still have my shoes. Heh heh.

Usually I used to take my students’ comments in stride. I mean hello, I used to teach 14-18 year olds for a living. But later on, I began to think about the way I dress and about the topic of modesty in general. A few thought-provoking questions came into my mind: Do I wear some types of clothing based on my need to belong and be accepted, to show my wealth or social status, or to just show off my individual style? Do we as a society feel the pressure to wear what we wear out of obligatory reasons or for other reasons? How does what I wear influence my self-image?

In an ever-changing society, it’s hard to ascertain what modest dress is and what it is not. Culturally, there are differences based on where one lives, too. For example, in certain beaches in France, it’s ok to sunbathe topless, while in other places like the Middle East or some parts of India, women wear thick, black burkas to follow the law of purdah, (or veiling) and to show modesty and respect for themselves and others.

Then here, in the good ole Us of A, there is the controversial brouhaha towards some women who choose to publicly, but discreetly breastfeed their babies, while others who mock this practice wear low-cut shirts donning cleavage from their latest breast implants. Hmm...maybe I’ll leave that zinger of a post for another day.

Megan Fox. Pretty Foxie, eh?

Being bombarded left and right with television commercials, movies, and magazines filled with the untouchable Megan Foxes or Angelina Jolies of the world makes defining modesty and painting a "realistic" picture of self-image a little more difficult, too. Sometimes it seems, according to society, to be a “successful” woman you need to look like Eva Longoria, have the brains of a CEO like Hewlett-Packard’s Meg Whitman, and be uber-funny like Tina Fey. There’s always someone else we can compare ourselves to. Whether it's due to the drowning effects of the media or these preconceived notions of what we should be or look like, young girls and women can feel the pressure of just not measuring up. I was once that girl.

Until I became a mother.

Me and Mini-me

After my first child was born, I began to look at my body and my mind in wonder at the incredible accomplishments I had achieved. And let me also set the record straight: Becoming a mom didn’t magically bibbidi-bobbidy-boo away all of the indoctrinating pre-conceptions of what my body should look like. (You mean, my belly doesn’t go back to normal immediately right after birth? Will this saggy skin get better? Where did those stretch marks come from? Yes, those questions). However, watching my body go through pregnancies and births has given me a newer, brighter, and better perception of what we as women can accomplish and the importance of revering our beautiful selves. Becoming a mom to my sweet girls, has impelled me to further study the topic of dressing modestly and how to have a healthier self-image, too. And I hope I can share with them some important truths I’ve found thus far:

First, our bodies are sacred gifts. As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon) I believe that we are created in the image of our loving Heavenly Father and He has given us our bodies as sacred gifts. Because of this vital knowledge, I want to protect my body. I believe the way I dress is one way I can show gratitude and reverence for it. Hey, even some cars have front-end bras to protect from the road debris and bugs. We protect our cars, why wouldn’t we do a better job at covering our bodies and protecting them from the worldly, harmful elements?

A car-bra!

Second, How I dress can influence thoughts. Someone once told me that what we wear can put thoughts (whether good or not) into people’s heads. I disagree and agree. I think it’s a matter of wording for me. While we can’t control what kinds of thoughts enter into people's minds and technically what they think about is not our fault, what we do, say, and what we wear can have an influence on ourselves and others. That’s why wearing provocative clothing provokes, or stirs up, purposefully, as wise, old Mr. Webster stated. I once heard the example: Imagine you are watching a play and the lead actor comes out wearing a clown costume, even though he starts playing the serious part of the lead.This would confuse the audience as to what is the actor’s agenda and role.

I might add, dressed like a clown, I’m most likely going to act like one, too. I also believe that the way I dress influences my own thoughts. If I am dressing modestly, I feel more confident, my self-worth increases and I respect myself more.

Third, Modesty is Freedom. I recently read that one of the definitions of modesty is “freedom from conceit or vanity”. I think that's pretty cool. For me, dressing modestly is something that I choose to do and it frees me from dressing the way media portrays I have to. I have the freedom to choose what I want to wear based on how I view myself and how I want to be perceived by others. We actually all have this freedom, regardless of what we wear. However, by choosing to dress modestly, I feel that I am investing in my confidence and am placing value on who I am, rather than to perpetuate that my value depends solely on my appeal.

Ultimately, I hope I can teach my girls to be confident as they walk in their own shoes. Learning to love oneself and have confidence is a challenge. I’ve learned that placing one foot in front of the other is sometimes all that matters when on the path to becoming a better, more spiffy, and more confident me. And if all else fails and the self-doubt monster creeps in from time to time, I just give in and heck, buy the new shoes. Shoe retail therapy works, too. At least they don’t ever have to go over my hips.

PUSH Down The Aisle

The day had come. I had waited so long. There I was. There they were, all staring at me. They watched my every move and smiled at me warm heartedly, inviting me in. They all celebrated my arrival and decision to take the next step. I continued forward, walking deeper and deeper into an ocean of insecurity, doubt, and temptation.

I considered running out of there as fast as I could. I didn't think I was strong enough to make the right decision. I chose to stay. I continued down the aisle.  My journey had begun. I took a deep breath. Let the shopping commence.

This is what shopping is like for me. At least since I’ve committed to  the high standards of modesty that are strongly encouraged in my church. 

Increased standards of modesty is perhaps one of the hardest commitments I’ve ever made. Especially because I felt perfectly modest prior to becoming a member of the Mormon Church. It isn’t challenging because I like to dress promiscuously, enjoy showing cleavage, or like to put my legs on display. In fact, it’s the complete opposite!  What I sometimes obsess over are the actual clothes, not how much skin I show. Here are some common thoughts I might have when shopping or dressing for the day.

It’s just skin and bones, why should I have to hide it. I am not my skin.

It’s way too hot outside. There’s no way I’m wearing an undershirt.

What harm could I possibly cause by wearing this adorable black lace skirt?

The lace back on this satin, pastel shirt is so beautiful. I don’t want it because it’s revealing or would attract attention. I just want to wear it. It would make me feel pretty! 

All pretty innocent thoughts, right?

Oh, and how about swimsuits? Don’t even get me started! I love two pieces AND one pieces! I love the colors, the patterns, the styles, and the textures! So what in the world keeps me from wearing two pieces? If I love them so much, why don’t I just wear them and enjoy it?

I wish I could round this blog out with how I’ve overcome my personal modesty challenges. I've erased two entire paragraphs because it just didn’t feel real. I still occasionally choose cute lace back shirts and short summer skirts (not mini skirts, but just short-ish). Some of my shirts are a little too low. Some of my shorts are a little too short.

My church challenges its members when it comes to modesty with the following question: “Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord's presence?” For the majority of what I wear, I could sincerely answer yes. To some of my clothes, not so much.

What I am excited to share with you is that I am always challenging myself to PUSH forward and be better than the person I was yesterday. I always strive to open up my mind. I could carry on thinking that what I wear affects only me. On the other hand, I can expand my mind to the idea that how I clothe my body affects the people around me- sometimes, very negatively.

There aren't many worse feelings (as a married woman) than being the cause of a married man’s (or single) lustful thoughts and desirous thinking.  Can you imagine?

Here’s a scenario: Let’s say I’m wearing my loyal turquoise V-neck t-shirt and some jeans. I feel perfectly comfortable and modest. We have company. We’re lounging on our couch. The AC is down low and I’m so cold! I hug myself and rub my arms to warm them up. In the process I create cleavage! You know the kind I’m talking about (the kind we create in the mirror when no one’s looking). I look up and I catch the eye of my good friend’s husband, who had just spend 2-3 seconds looking at my breast. Yes, I said it- my breasts! I look away and pretend I didn’t notice. Can you feel the awkwardness?

 I feel uneasy. Because of my carelessness, I put him in this awkward situation. Perhaps he will never think of it again. Maybe he’s at a place spiritually and in his marriage that something like this couldn’t possibly faze him. Maybe that night, while lying next to his wife, he wonders what it would be like to date other women again. Maybe he imagines what it would be like to be intimate with someone new.

This is the kind of thinking that makes me PUSH myself to be selflessly modest. Despite where I stand today in my understanding and acceptance of physical modesty, I need to own my actions. How do I affect my husband? How do I affect other men? How do I make other women feel when I’m around their husbands?

It would devastate me to think that someone wouldn’t feel comfortable with me being around their husband because of my choice of clothing, no matter how comfortable and secure I feel.

When I walk down the aisle again, I will be tugged left and right every time. The colors, patterns, and textures will all sing me my own personal lullaby. Each shirt and each dress will present me with their own personal plead: “Choose me, I’m trendy” or “Choose me, I go perfectly with those shoes you bought last week!” Each time, I will be able to tune more and more out. I will be able to put my own understanding of modesty and weakness for fashion aside, and be a little more selflessly modest. I will PUSH forward, striving to be more modest than I was yesterday.

 

God Given

Preface:  my husband read this before it posted and said it was extremely serious, more like a sermon than anything else. To that I say:  this is a hard topic for me and the only way I've found any sort of peace is through God.

Amen and Amen.

________________________________

The other day I was gutting my walk-in closet to create a makeshift room for my 4 month old. While rummaging through boxes I came across a journal from my sophomore year of high school. In it I wrote that I was “15 years old, 5 foot 1 inches tall, and 105 lbs”.

Holy cow. Well, not cow. Holy Stick.

I am still 5’1”, but I am no longer 15 and I am definitely no longer 105 lbs.

It’s hard, at times, to not beat myself up over this fact. I know I’ve had three babies, love to cook, and have dealt with thyroid (which controls metabolism) cancer. But I, like so many other women, fight my body.

I want to please God. I want to “glorify God in (my) body” (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).  But I want to feel attractive, and the world has taught me that the more skin I show the more beautiful I will be.  Thus, there are these internal battles in my head. There have been times where I forget that my body is sacred, that it is a gift from God. God’s spirit inside of me whispers you are enough but the world yells change this, pluck that, wax here, tighten there.

I’d like to say I have this whole body image, modesty topic figured out. But motherhood? Well, it changed my body and I have since had to try and accept these changes:

Expanded hips because I vaginally birthed three beautiful boys.

Wilted breasts because I nursed two babies.

Flabby mid-section because I now really need chocolate

Let’s take a moment, though, and answer the question, “How has motherhood positively affected my body?”

Wide hips for my babies to sit on

Strong arms from toting a car seat every where

Toned legs from squatting to pick up things while baby wearing

Happier stomach as I actually pay attention to what goes into my mouth and my children’s

Bridled tongue—well, at least I try for it to be

Quick reflexes that snatch little hands as they try to run into parking lots

Bigger heart that bursts each day when watching my children play

Increased stamina. Who knew you could survive on 3 hours of nonconsecutive sleep?

Better nose. Yeah, I can so tell who’s poopy just by their individual smell.

Our sense of self is what we make it—what we dwell on, what we tell ourselves over and over. I pray as women that we remember the positives more than the negatives.

____________________________

When it comes to modesty two questions have been lingering in my mind the past few months:

1.       Why do so many women feel the need to flaunt their bodies?

2.       Where is the “line” between dressing appropriately and not being responsible for other’s sinful thoughts?

To answer the first, I think our culture has taught us that the more skin we show the more beautiful we will be.  This makes me mad.

I know a woman who struggles to see her beauty and to accept herself. Her heart is so tender that she believes her husband (who is a great, God-fearing man) will one day leave her because she does not look like a supermodel.  She also feels she needs to dress revealingly so that her husband will only be enticed by her. This husband does not support these claims (or so she’s told me) saying that he loves her for her whether or not she has small boobs, big boobs, a six pack or a muffin top.

I pray that with time and therapy this friend will overcome these feelings of self-loathing. I pray that she will realize that God made her body. It is perfectly His. Whether a woman is 5’1” or 6’1”, big booty-ed or small booty-ed, she was formed by and loved by God:

“The Lord (hath) made thee, and formed thee from the womb” Isaiah 44:2 

“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee” Jeremiah 1:5

Next, where is the line between dressing appropriately and not being responsible for other’s thoughts? Growing up I was taught that I needed to be a good Christian girl and keep myself covered as not to cause sinful thoughts in the opposite sex.

What a heavy, wrong burden to bear.

Other’s thoughts are not my responsibility. I choose what thoughts I let linger in my mind.

HOWEVER, there are woman—my former self included—who have pulled up that skirt and lowered that neck line for the simple fact of tryingto get attention. Woman can and sometimes do intend to entice men. (Potiphar’s wife anyone?) If this is a woman’s state of mind then I believe that she is making a “poor choice” (as my 4 year old calls wrong decisions). Short skirts aren’t necessarily wrong. But the thought behind them can be. And that is where a woman’s responsibility lies:  her motives.

_______________________________

When this life is said and done I do not believe God is going to ask me if my inseam was 3 inches or 12. I do not believe He’s going to inquire about the sleeve length of my senior prom dress. He is going to look at my heart. He is going to ask if I accepted, respected, and loved the body He gave me. I hope when that time comes I can, with assuredly, say “yes”.

A Swimsuit of Sticks and Stones

Think back to the last compliment you received.
Think about a time someone said something that hurt your feelings.
Think about what you tell yourself when you catch your reflection in the car window on a grocery run, stare off in the mirror as you brush your teeth before bed, or see a photo tagged of yourself on facebook.

"Insert that comment here."

And take a moment to really think about what happened inside your brain as you heard it again.

How did it make you feel the first time?  How did it make you feel now?

I think most of us can agree that compliments are by far the best kind of comment someone can make about your physical appearance.  They make you feel good.  Someone noticed something nice about you, and now you notice it too.

"I love your hair when you wear it that way."
Thanks! (Does she really think so? Maybe I'll wear my hair like this again more often.)

"Your outfit looks really cute on you."
Thank you! (Really? I guess this color does suit me!)

"You are so photogenic!"
Thanks so much! (Wow! I feel pretty good right now.)

"You are so skinny, I wish I was that thin."
Thanks!... (...wait- something doesn't feel right.)

"Your eyes are so pretty and big, mine are so small and beady."
Thank you... (This doesn't feel very good at all.)

"Your toes are so cute and dainty, I have man-feet with stubby little toes. They're like sausages."
That's not true!

But not all compliments make you feel very good.  Compliments like the last few are often followed by some sort of self-critical comment from the speaker- and the listener is left feeling more uncomfortable than flattered.  When I receive one of these double-edged compliments, I cringe.

I try to reassure them- but they don’t believe me. ( I had a feeling they wouldn't.  That would be too easy.)  I feel like I need to even the score.  I offer up one of my flaws. They promptly give me another of theirs. 

It’s like a battle.  Who can win for lowest self-esteem.  An ugly-off.   

How many self-criticizing comments do you have in your arsenal?

Who will be the last to share some horrible trait about themselves before the other falls silent?  Even when you win, you don’t win. You’re just both hurt. These conversations are so common as women.  I think that we often think we’re being kind.  We want the other person to see something good about themselves- something that we wish we had.  But we’re also hoping for some sort of reassurance.  We know they are pretty, we just gave them a very specific compliment.  We want to know we’re pretty too.

Oh that word… “pretty”.

Books could- and have- been written on the subject. 

As a middle school teacher, I see young girls and boys struggling to adjust to their changing bodies.  They are suddenly painfully aware of everyone around them- and even more painfully aware of how they compare.  I feel my heartstrings being tugged for the overweight girl who wears a jacket even on the hottest of Florida days.  I feel a tug at my throat for the smaller-than-average boy who wear’s baggy clothes in failed attempt to make himself look bigger.  Girls caked in eyeliner and concealer- Boys bathed in cologne.  It’s an awkward, uncomfortable, and sometimes much-too-long time period for all of us.

I hang motivational posters in my classroom.  I tell them to be kind.  We have school-wide “bully-proofing” workshops on select days to discuss “inner-beauty” and “peer-pressure.”

This is one of the posters I have hanging in my room.  I love it when one of my students asks me what it means and I have a chance to take a minute and discuss it with the class.  [Image Credit: Here]

It’s something.  It’s better than nothing…but we all know.  We know what they’re thinking. 

"Who cares."  "This is dumb."  "They don’t understand."  "It’s not that simple."

I wish it was that simple. I wish I could scream “It’s going to be alright! It doesn't matter what you look like! Don’t listen to those other kids. Middle school is such a short time of your life- don’t let it define the rest of it!”  Why won’t they listen? Why don’t they believe me? Why do they care SO FREAKING MUCH about something so incredibly unimportant? Why can’t they see things the way I see them- as my older, wiser, self?

And then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the lab room windows.

I find myself smoothing my hair, pulling my shirt down, and feeling just a little too “un-pretty” before I realize what I’m doing.  What I’m thinking- how I’m feeling… and how little I’ve really changed since I was that teenage girl-when you look deep down inside. 

The truth is- while “Sticks and stones may hurt my bones…” words can also hurt me.  Sometimes we hang-on just a little too tightly to the things other people say.  Especially if it's someone we care about, love, or admire.  When someone tells you something- a little piece of that, even if it's just a small piece, will stay with you.  Like a seed planted in your brain.  And if you nourish it- if you give it power- it will grow.

[Base Image Credit: Here ]

I make it a point to remind my students (even if only during our lovely “bully-proofing” sessions) the power their words can have.  With the growing presence of cyber-bullying, hurtful words are becoming not only more common, but more casual.  From the safety of their computer screen- people (not just teens) can see, scrutinize, and criticize others with little or no repercussion...or reason.  I tell my students to think back to something someone told them- (good, bad, anything that left an impact on them) and help them identify that they can still remember- often vividly- how it made them feel. 

The power of words is something many people are never taught to properly respect and take responsibility for.  And even when we know the impact our words can have on others- we aren’t always willing to say only kind things.  Especially not to ourselves.

I love the quote by Elanor Roosevelt.

[Image Credit: Here ]

 It’s so incredibly true. 

I remember growing up and telling my mom that my brothers made me so angry.  She would always tell me that  “No one can MAKE you feel anything.”  Now- THAT would “make” me feel even MORE angry. Haha  But she was right.

Words are powerful.  They can have the amazing power to encourage, inspire… or the terrifying power to discourage and hurt.  But ultimately- it’s our choice.  No matter the power someone has in the words they say, you have the power to determine how it will affect you.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy.

As we are working on this topic on To Each Their Own… I’m starting to notice more and more of my own inconsistencies.  My newest baby is just shy of two months old, and I’m not finding myself exactly jumping at the bit to throw on my swimsuit over my postpartum body and go lounge at the pool.  And that’s ok.

We don’t have to love every bit of ourselves all of the time.  That’s impossible.  But when we find ourselves feeling down because of something we heard or saw- we should remind ourselves who has the real power. 

It turns out that the old “sticks and stones” saying isn’t so inaccurate after all.  Words can hurt. Deeply.  But we set the phasers to “kill” or “stun”.  (And yes... that is a star trek reference. I am a nerd- and that's Ok! haha) To an extent, we are able to decide how badly those words can hurt us.  We decide how those magazine articles, Pinterest Pins, friends' facebook posts, and any other number of media words/images will affect us. Our self-image is just that.  Ours. 

[Image Credit: Here]

It can be empowering to discover this.  But on the other hand- it can be strangely disconcerting to realize that while we can control our own self-image, it’s not ultimately in our power to change anyone else’s view of themselves.  We can’t change how someone else feels.  The only thing we can control is ourselves.  That being said- we are not completely powerless. Our words and actions still hold weight. 

As...

Sisters

Wives

Daughters

Teachers

Coworkers

Roommates

Teammates

Friends.

All these people have an impact on us- and to someone, we are one of those people. 

[Image Credit: Here ]

And as mothers, especially, we have a sacred responsibility to help our children build strong foundations of self-worth.  We can do this by the things we say, the things we do, the way we act, the way we dress, and the way we speak about ourselves and others.  We have little eyes watching us.  We are their world; and what kind of world do we want them to grow up in?  

I don't have a daughter- but I know that for my sons, my self-worth can speak just as many volumes.  I want my children to feel happy with themselves.  As they grow, I want them to make friends and surround themselves with people who uplift them.  I want them to be attracted to young women who are confident and kind. Like the quote above- the one frequenting Pinterest and Facebook recently... I want them to "Believe there is good in the world." I want them to "Be the good."

Swimming with Chickens

Last week, my blog post came on the heels of a very exhausting road trip with my family. It made for fuzzy writing I'm afraid. My dear husband pointed out a few grammatical errors. If you know me at all, you know that nothing dampens my mood quite like making a grammatical error. And if you know my husband at all, you know that having him (the guy who can calculate percentages in his head in five seconds but cannot master proper comma usage) be the one to discover it makes it all the greater the shame. Need less to say, I was eager to make up for it with a stellar, thought-provoking picture of writing perfection. And then I got a stomach virus. So please do forgive me if this week's post is a little gut wrenching.

My intestinal non-fortitude not withstanding, I was really excited to write about this week's topic, "Modesty, Swimwear and Body Image". Do me a favour. Try, just try, to come up with three words that are more conflicting and stick them in a phrase. Go ahead. Try it.

Have you ever seen those crazy chicken fights where two roosters just get stuck in a pen? They essentially attack each other, feathers fly, blood is shed and somewhere, some poor mother chicken wonders where she went wrong. That is how I feel about "modesty", "swimwear" and "body image" being put together. It's like a chicken fight. Because today, in our society, those words don't agree. They don't get along. They peck and scratch and tear each other's feathers out.

Forming a solid opinion on these words is like trying to balance a spoon on your nose while standing on a water-bed. I'm sure it's possible but not without a great deal of effort. With varying schools of thought and a large, healthy portion of societal influence, it's daunting to say the least.

I love society. It does such a great job of making things complicated. Everything is a debate and everything is contradictory. We all want to feel like we control our bodies and we control what's on them...as long as what we are doing fits within the confines of what is acceptable in the mainstream.

If you are a teenager, you should wear a bikini. This is what is done. This is what they do in magazines, and everyone knows that magazines are a mirror image of reality. One pieces are not sexy. They are not appealing. If you wear one, you will never get a date, a job, a home or a life.

If you are in college, you should wear as much, or as little, as you want without consideration to what impact this has on the world around you. It's all about you. It's all about what makes you happy. If a fifteen-year-old boy should happen to pass and become aroused by your lack of coverage, he must be a filthy- minded heathen. If an elderly woman glances at you a bit disapprovingly, she is an old prude. If an eleven-year-old girl looks at you and thinks that she needs to dress that way in order to be successful and beautiful, she should be allowed to do so, because it's her body. At this stage of life, your only responsibility is to yourself. Isn't that what life is all about?

When you have children, you can still wear a bikini...if you have to. But please, for pete's sake, do not breastfeed your baby in public. That's disgusting. And oh, those stretch marks are pretty unsightly, would you mind putting a tank top on over that bikini? You have what? Varicose veins?!? Seriously woman, please put on some shorts. The women in magazines do not have vericose veins and you have a duty to cover up because we might be offended by what we see. It's not like you're single any more ya know.

If you're an elderly woman, just wear a dress. You don't really have to get in the water do you? Shouldn't you be sitting under an umbrella somewhere?

No wonder I despise shopping for swimwear.

With society's ever present opinion plastered on the cover of every magazine, movie poster and television commercial, is it any wonder that studies report that 97% of women will have at least one "I hate my body" moment every day?

Confession: I am one of the 97%. I have those moments. Not a lot of them, but still. They happen and they're painful. I do not look like a girl in a magazine. I have stretch marks, I have varicose veins, my breasts hang below my rib cage on a good day and my stomach bears strong resemblance to a spayed cat pouch. My last few trips to the beach have involved cap-sleeved t-shirts and shorts, for no other reason than because that is what I am comfortable wearing in public.

Society might have me believe that this means that I have an unhealthy body image and low self-esteem. They would tell me that in order to love my body, I have to expose it. In order to not be ashamed of it, I need to parade around in as little as possible with my head held high. I disagree.

I don't always love the way my body looks on the outside, but I do respect it. It allowed me to walk and run and swim and spend countless hours on the back of a horse. It took me to school, to parties, to dances. It walked me through the temple with my husband. It nourished and bore children. It allows me to rock my babies, bandage scraped knees, embrace my husband, drive to soccer practice, teach music every Sunday. I respect my body. I am thankful for my body. I appreciate my body. And because of that, I love my body. I don't need anyone else to see my bare thighs in order to feel that.

I don't cover my body because I'm ashamed of it, I cover it because I respect it. And that respect is not contingent on the approval of society. That respect goes a lot deeper than a bathing suit.

As women, wearing a bathing suit can feel like being in a chicken fight. We might feel like we are being attacked, pecked, scratched and de-feathered. We might feel like we need to attack the choices of others to establish a comfort level with our own personal choices. We might think we need to dress to send a message, make a statement or conform to what is acceptable in the eye of the public.

But what if we could step back from the fight and realize that we don't actually need to do that? What if we focused more on the purposes our bodies fulfil, instead of how they stack up to the latest catalogue model? What if we could celebrate the virtues of a healthy body rather than constantly berate it for its flaws? Would we still be so concerned with what we wear to the beach?

What if covering our bodies was not seen as a sure indicator of immaturity but rather and acceptance of the reality that our bodies are made for more than bathing suits? What if young girls knew that their potential for positive influence in this world is not contingent on exposing their midriffs? Would our choices be less agonizing if we were content with our bodies and grateful for the rolls they fill?

I am thankful for the body I have been given. I appreciate my angel mother for her sacrifice to create that body. I hope that my daughter will feel that way. I hope that she will treasure her body and respect it and love it, no matter what shape it takes, what tint it has, or what flaws may come its way. I worked hard to give it to her.

At the end of the day, I hope she will be able to say, "I am who I am and that bathing suit is darn lucky to have me."

Ah, summer...

It's that special time of year where everybody complains about the incredible heatwave... that happened at this same time last year... with the same temperatures...

This season has a habit of making people forget about things that happened before, as every summer tends to mush together in our brains. We habit forming humans create routines for the seasons, and hot weather in particular produces shorts, flip flops, sunscreen, cool drinks, and late nights. Many people can relate to this, but only a special few can identify a summer when your life was on the verge of change. Your last summer before becoming a mother.

Having an autumn baby meant that I was steadily becoming heavily pregnant during the time of year when the sun was threatening to scorch the earth. More often than not I felt like an overheated manatee left out on the beach to dry. Being a person who loves to hang out by the pool, that summer was unusual for me because I never stopped by, not even once to dip my toes in. Feeling rather self-conscious I was worried my burgeoning baby bump would encourage unwanted gawking, especially as I reminisced about the summer prior how I had enjoyed sunbathing slathered in coconut oil with a smooth, flat tummy.

I became rather focused on how my body was changing, and while I gave some consideration to how my life would be affected, there is really nothing to prepare anyone for parenthood. I would think to myself I should relish my freedom while I still have it, but the luxury of solo trips to the store and being able to come and go as I please would not be something I could fully appreciate until it was gone. Thankfully my fear of losing everything I came to understand as a self-actualized adult was smoothly replaced by my growing excitement and anticipation as flutters became kicks and people began to recognize me as pregnant and not that fat girl with a pretty face.

Admittedly there were some aspects of the change that were unpalatable for me because I was experiencing my pregnancy alone; At that time my husband was deployed to Iraq so I was left to fend for myself. That meant when I got 11pm cravings for Wendy's, I would have to be my own best friend and go get it. When my belly got too big to see my body from the waist down, a mirror on the floor became responsible for making sure I was wearing the same pair of shoes on both feet. And most importantly, late at night when I got a sharp kick to the bladder, I didn't have anyone to pre-warm the seat for me, so I'd have to suck it up and plop down on a chilly toilet. Although these are all things I would have loved to have experienced with him, the independence of it all became another defining aspect of that summer.

I have many fun and even some not-so-pleasant memories from that time, but collectively it was a season I will forever cherish. During that short phase even though I thought I understood everything, it is only in hindsight that I can fully comprehend what a special and unique time in my life it was. My experiences I had back then will always stand apart from all the heatwaves I have had and will have from here on out - even when it's old age that turns my brain to mush and not the heat.  For the rest of my life, I will always honestly be able to share how I am blessed to have a summer memory as distinguished as turning the page in my life from being simply a woman to becoming a mother.
-JLH

JLH is the devoted wife of an adrenaline junkie soldier of the US ARMY, and the mother of a quirky and sassy five year old girl. The author has a love for the absurd, a penchant for the strange, and enjoys walking on the wacky side of life.

Stephanie Nielson and Self Image

Our guest poster is running a little late today- so I wanted to take this opportunity to kick-off this week with a mother who I find truly inspiring.

Stephanie Neilson.

[Image Credit: here] 

I only learned about Stephanie and her blog: Nie Nie Dialogues yesterday...(Thank you to my dear friend Rebecca who guest blogged for a few weeks.) ...but already her story has made a sweet and beautiful impact on how I view myself and others.  Please take a moment to listen to her story- and maybe peruse her blog- we can all learn something when we take a step out of ourselves and look at the bigger picture.

This week our topic is "Swimsuit Season" and we will be talking about modesty and self-image on To Each Their Own.  I feel like this may be our most powerful message yet- and we already have several guest posters lined up with messages they want to share.

If you are interested in writing a guest post this week- please send a link to your blog post as a message on our facebook page.  If you do not currently have a blog- you can still write your post as a word document and e-mail it to us at tetoguest@gmail.com.  Please also feel free to send us any questions/concerns you may have and we'll fix you up in a jiffy! :)

Instead of just having on guest post next Sunday- we will have a list of links to our favorite posters, and downloads available for word document entries.  Please include at least one picture with your entry- and an image credit if it is not your own.  (Primarily for Pinterest purposes)

[Image Credit: Here]

Thank you for visiting To Each Their Own- and please be sure to check back daily for entries and comment frequently.  We love to hear our reader's thoughts and opinions!