A Shop-NOT-Aholic

Last week I began the process of shopping for a dress for my daughter’s upcoming Fall wedding. And when I say “process” I really mean hellish-ordeal. Clothes shopping for me is an experience that requires much prayer, much patience and sometimes some sort of medication, because when you have a less-than perfect body type, shopping can be the cause of many headaches and stomachaches.

I’ve been putting off the mother-of-the-bride dress shopping as long as possible, because, well, I hate shopping. I have an entire list of things I’d rather do other than shop. I’d rather have my teeth cleaned, I’d rather have a colonoscopy, I’d rather have a mammogram; I’d rather … well, I’d rather do about a million other unpleasant things if it would delay shopping for clothes.

I came up short (both figuratively and literally) in the body lottery. I have an hourglass figure that now at my age, has entirely too much sand in the bottom half. Clearly I must have swum in the wrong end of the gene pool or perhaps not-so-much, the wrong end but perhaps the average end of the gene pool would be more accurate. I come from very hearty, but very average stock. Both my parents were completely average in the looks and body department as were their parents before them and probably their parents before them. Average people begetting average people, begetting average people which equals a whole lot of less-than-perfect, perfectly average shaped, average looking people.

A daily perusal of Facebook which is filled with dozens of pictures of gorgeous people like Melania and Ivanka Trump, Jennifer Anniston, the Duchess of Cambridge or any number of the Kardashian/Jenner women … well, someone of average stock like myself could find themselves on the losing end of the beauty barometer.

There have been many times that I’ve given in to that unhealthy habit of comparison – which sadly only leads to more prayer, patience and yes, sometimes … medication. Comparisons are never wise and history has shown that when an average person pits themselves against a princess or a Hollywood actress, average rarely wins.

Staring back at my very average self in twin dressing room mirrors last week, I couldn’t get past the main reason I hate shopping for clothes. I’ve unfortunately inherited some rather large thighs from my father. My thigh circumference is one of the few body parts that I’m actually considered to be “above-average” in, unless of course you’re discussing my above-average sized breasts which I inherited from my paternal grandmother. My mother on the other hand, left me with a unique legacy as well – a small waist and a big bottom, which by the way is a terrible combination when trying to buy pants, jeans, skirts or dresses. Finding “normal” clothes to fit my abnormal proportions is … daunting, to say the least.

If I were a drinking a woman (thank goodness, I am not), last week’s shopping excursion could have sent me on a bender of epic proportions. Nothing fit, everything looked and felt terrible on me. Maybe Hillary Clinton can get away with wearing a $12,000 Armani Potato sack – but my budget isn’t that big.

In order to find a dress, I realize I need to trust the formula: much prayer, much patience and perhaps a bit of medication. Ohhh, if only there were a pill one could take that would help them to look in the mirror and love their reflection! Since that doesn’t exist, what’s really in order is a new mindset and a new attitude that reminds me that I am in fact, the daughter of a King — the Lord of Lords, the Most-High God, to be exact and He doesn’t judge me according to my outward appearance. (1 Samuel 16:7)

My Lord knit me together in my mother’s womb, my frame was not hidden from him. His eyes saw my unformed body as I was made in the secret place. (Psalm 139:13, 15-16) My frame — that consists of equal parts mom, equal parts dad, with little bits of grandma and grandpa sprinkled in to complete the package – this is me and I am EXACTLY the way I’m supposed to be.  God created each of us according to His exact specifications, so for us to complain about the way we look, is to tell the Creator of the Universe that He did a bad job.

Yes, I’m not perfect and I pale in comparison to a Kardashian – but then I don’t have to compare myself to anyone. I just have to find a nice dress for my daughter’s wedding and enjoy the blessed, joyous day. And when this is done … I get to do it all over again for my son’s wedding next spring. Oh joy of joys … another opportunity to shop!

I am the mother of the bride … I am the daughter of a King.

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. Psalm 139:1 (NLT)

Blessings in Christ  and as always … Happy Reading!

Kathy K.