If anything could bring it on, a trip through the checkout lane was it. One stopped off, thinking that all she was getting was groceries for the week. Instead, what one got was a heaping dose of insecurity before she’d reached the cashier.
It was hard to escape unscathed. For nearly everywhere one went, newsstands featured row upon row of impossibly thin, curvaceous, unblemished women. No hint of cellulite upon their frames. No varicose veins, no wrinkles, no flaws.
Several years ago, I took a poll of my blog readers who were raising girls. What, I wanted to know, where the top issues confronting their daughters? Not surprisingly, body image came in at the top. There was tremendous pressure to meet an unrealistic standard of perfection, and their girls were suffering for it.
I am not (and I’ll say this up front) going to demean or castigate any women who are beautiful and thin. If this is you, then you should give thanks. It’s a gift and a blessing, and there’s no need for guilt or shame. Simply be grateful.
For everyone else who struggles over physical imperfections, whether real or perceived, I’d like to talk to you, woman to woman. If I could, I’d invite you to sit down across from me in the beloved Jesus Chair, the place where he sits when I’m writing at the coffee shop, and we’d chat.
I would start like this. I’ve learned, whenever something’s troubling me, that truth is the only prescription. “The truth,” Jesus said, “will set you free.” I look for truth.
In truth, our bodies are amazing. Brilliantly designed, creatively crafted, we bear the fingerprints of God in our earthly frame. The Engineer held nothing back when he wove us together, knitting us with his fingers in the womb.