Issues

I almost titled this "Thank God for full body tights". If you haven't guessed already, my issue is body related. Shocker, huh? Today I did something that I never in a million years imagined I would be doing as an almost 30 year old mother of 3. I stood in a shoebox size dressing room and tried on leotards. *Collective gasp!* Yes, I heard it. And yes, it was as traumatic as you are imagining. I have to tell y'all, pride always comes before the fall for me. A couple of weeks ago I went to get a new outfit to wear on my anniversary date. [I'm coming back to clarify that this is NOT the outfit that I wrote this blog about. That was a trauma of a whole other kind!!!] Of course, I found all kinds of other things I wanted to try. Y'all, last summer was the first summer I wore shorts since having Sarah. I'm not kidding. Well, I was actually able to get into a single digit pair of shorts!! Now, I didn't get them because they were still a tad too tight for me to actually wear in public, BUT a year ago I couldn't have gotten them on one leg, so it was a pretty big deal for me. Well, I went on my date feelin' all good and ate ravioli and black tie cheesecake at Olive Garden like there was no tomorrow. Apparently, I paid for it.

So, here I was today, just a few short weeks after my last triumphant dressing room experience wiggling, squeezing and sucking it in trying to get into leotards  2-3 sizes bigger than those shorts. Granted, leotards are in a fashion category all their own, but still, my confidence was falling faster than I could get the stinkin' thing on. In fact, I'm pretty sure I left my self-esteem on the floor of that dressing room. Have you ever worked up a sweat trying to put clothes on? I've decided that will be all of the stretching and warming up I need every morning. In fact, I'll probably need at least a 45 minute nap everyday after I get dressed. I need to go rewrite the schedule.....

For those of you who are totally lost, I have somehow gotten a job teaching dance and we start a 2 week, 8 hour day dance camp in t minus 4 days. I am a walking bundle of nerves and Justin Beiber songs. Baby, baby, baby, oh! My overall confidence has been pretty low. It's been a loooong time since I danced. Today was like the final blow. I thought, 'I do not look like an 18 year old who spends an excessive amount of hours each day dancing.' Here is the newsflash I got: I'M NOT AN 18 YEAR OLD WHO SPENDS AN EXCESSIVE AMOUNT OF HOURS DANCING EVERYDAY! Oh yeah! So, now that we have that covered, let's discuss the fact that it is time for JLo to design a line of leotards. Or Beyonce. I mean, you don't usually see ballerinas with big booties, but this Mama could give JLo a run for her money. I don't know why. Nobody else in my family is um, as blessed in that area. I always say I took one for the team. I don't know where Beyonce got her leotard for "All the Single Ladies". All I could think about in that dressing room was the SNL skit that made fun of that video. And I had great resentment for Justin Timberlake. Because he looks better in a leotard than I do.

Okay, enough of that. I've spent most of the week in one of those funky, self-pitying, "I'm never eating again!" moods and I was really getting tired of it. After the dance store Sarah and I headed to Wal-Mart. I bought some St. John's Wort. The label on it says "Promotes a positive attitude". Let's hope. Well, it must have had a placebo effect just sitting there in the buggy. As we checked out and I placed Sarah's lunch box and tights and shorts for dance camp on the conveyer belt, it hit me. This is not about me. This is about her. And all of the other girls coming to camp. It's about them learning and having fun. It's about making memories and sharing a passion. It's not about the size of my backside.

One of my friends from high school is a dance teacher and she sent me this yesterday:


There are little eyes upon you



And they're watching night and day.


There are little ears that quickly


...Take in every word you say.


There are little hands all eager


To do anything you do;


And a little girl who's dreaming


Of the day she'll be like you.






You're the little girl's idol,


You're the wisest of the wise.


In her little mind about you


No suspicions ever rise.


She believes in you devoutly,


Holds all you say and do;


She will say and do in your way


When she's all grown up like you.






There's a wide eyed little girl


Who believes you're always right;


And her eyes are always opened,


And she watches day and night.


You are setting an example


Every day in all you do,


For the little girl who's waiting


To grow up to be like you.


As we checked out and I had my little revelation, I remembered these words. I felt a little twinge. My body issues have been such a problem for me. Maybe it's just a girl thing. Maybe it was growing up in a dance studio. Our society already has pretty crazy expectations for girls and women when it comes to our bodies, but the norm for dancers is that much tougher to live up to. Experiencing puberty in spandex in front of full length mirrors is not for the weak. I don't imagine those mirrors will be any more forgiving 3 kids later. I would love to be one of those women who others look at and marvel about how I never age and still have my pre-baby, girlish figure. But, today I realized it is even more important for me to be a woman who teaches these little girls not just how to plie or tendu, but to feel comfortable in their skin and know that they have more to offer in this life than a dress size. I want to be a woman that shows them the unconditional love of Jesus.  I want them to desire to please Him more than they desire to be tiny.
 
I won't lie, I have my issues. I pray if I live to be 80 I will be SO over caring about this. Mostly I pray that my issues will not become the issues of those little girls with their eyes on me. It's a big responsibility. Pray for me!