Writing 101, Day 8, Expand a Comment
I read a blog post about being called fat in a derogatory manner and it struck a nerve. I probably should’ve left a comment about the thing that irked me, but I couldn’t quite articulate it at the time. I mulled over the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach for much longer than I should have and finally realized what was bothering me about the post. There was something in there about fat women not being able to wear skinny jeans. Being of larger than average size myself, I was completely taken aback. Who says I can’t wear skinny jeans? I *rock* the rocks out of skinnies!
To tell the truth, it irks me every time someone attempts to tell me what I can or can’t wear, so this reaction wasn’t related to the content of the post overmuch. Why should fat women feel relegated to hiding themselves under shapeless tents in the name of “plus-size fashion?” I keep telling people, if you don’t want to see me in what I’m wearing, please feel free to avert your eyes, but please don’t feel free to tell me what I can’t wear. Immodest clothing is a no-no, but as long as everything’s all covered up and I feel good in it, the fashion police don’t really matter. Who came up with these rules anyway?
I’ve read somewhere that designers aren’t that fond of dressing fat women for fancy events. I’ve even been told by a snooty woman in London that I couldn’t enter her store because “this is a French store” and they don’t stock anything in my size. I wanted to see just how hard this fancy frock design business was exactly, so on Saturday I went to the fabric store, got a few yards of satin and organza, conceptualized my design, draped the fabric around myself a little and started cutting and sewing. A few hours later I had a gorgeous confection, train and all, which could grace any red carpet anywhere. I’d managed “haute couture” in a matter of hours, and it only took that long because I’m not skilled with the sewing machine and ended up hand-stitching a good portion of my little masterpiece. Even better, I looked exceptional in it.
You’d think I’d have to wait for an occasion to rock such a garment, but every day of my life is an occasion, so I donned it on Sunday morning and went to church. Of course, right on cue, the fashion police came over to tell me that my dress was suited for a wedding, implying I was way overdressed for Sunday service.
A lot of people seem to have misplaced their priorities:
And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the LORD your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil.
Instead of focusing on what people wear or what they shouldn’t wear, focus on the state of your heart and your position with God. Instead of focusing on what other people look like on the outside, focus on what you look like on the inside. If you were to meet God today, would He care what you were wearing, or would He be more concerned with the matter of your repentance or lack thereof? Would He care about your physical size or would He focus on your spiritual size? Would He be pleased with your opinions about fat people?
Before you start sugarcoating your disdain with feigned concern for my health and the health of everyone who weighs over 100 pounds or whatever your cut-off weight might be, I leave you with some sage advice from Jesus.
Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye.