Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
I’m a born Californian. I grew up in a climate and culture where showing skin was not only acceptable, but NORMAL.
In Cali, when the sun is out, it’s really damn hot. I spent every day I could in my swimsuit, because it was the most comfortable thing to wear when it’s 95+ degrees outside (That’s Fahrenheit, if there was any confusion). To wear honest to god ‘clothing’ would have roasted me alive, I’m certain.
Just to clarify: I am by no means an Immodest person. I like to keep my private things PRIVATE, and appreciate when other people do the same. And I was raised by fashion conscious and modest parents, who taught me the proper way to dress for every occasion, using my body type. But I have never found the exposure of plain skin to be terribly inappropriate, and I do so with ease.
As I’ve ventured beyond the Golden borders, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that this is NOT always a socially acceptable mode of presenting myself.
In Alaska, when the snow melted and the sun came out, I was ecstatic! I dug through my dressers, and pulled out my little denim shorts and a tank top, kicked on some flip flops- And proceeding to get “Bug-eyed” expressions from the locals (Some more flattering than others…). Sigh… we move on.
In Washington, the Soggy State, the land of the Grunge look and Environmentally friendly flower children: I was rather shocked by how much disapproval I receive for my fashion sense.
Not as many blatant frowns and ogles, but there’s definitely a second glance pause when my skirts and shorts hit well above the knee. I’m either glared at for dressing like a “Hoochy mama” by the ghettos, Dismissed by the hipsters for being “showy” without being trendy, or… I honestly don’t know, but apparently my pencil skirt is just a little too high. Pardon me for having long legs.
I recently went back to Cali for a visit, and I cannot express how reassuring it was to drive down the road and see all the shirtless men and daisy duke attired women, of every weight, shape and color. Just knowing I was “normal” somewhere was quite refreshing.
Don’t get me wrong; I have a bit of a dramatic streak. I’ll admit I get tickled by throwing my Washingtonians off their game by adding my California girl flavor to the mix.
I don’t expect to ever really change my habit; I am comfortable in my skin, and my clothes. I find my taste to be flattering and functional.
Well, just an observation from a California Prude.
Monday, July 15, 2013
It's sort of funny, how much a little betrayal can change your heart. It sneaks up on you how badly damaged your trust gets. You don't even realize half the time, when you start expecting the worst, second guessing every word, every thought projected your way.
I mean, we're all doubters anyways; We all expect disappointments in life. But I don't think I always expected this much disappointment from people.
I can remember being able to take people for their worth. I remember the benefit of trust. But it's hard to hold onto that trust anymore. Trust in people, trust in myself... Trust that Yahweh will hold me 'til the end, and that even when I fall, that he still loves me.
I miss the security... That feeling of being held every moment, of being protected. So that no matter what gets thrown at you- or even, what gets ripped away, you know you'll be ok. You know that you'll recover, that you'll stand up tall in the end. I'm not feeling as tall as I used to...