CommonBond

I remember a girl that I went to school with all my life. Her name was Pam.

Pam was extremely overweight from the first grade through high school. I don’t personally remember ever making fun of her, but I do remember that a lot of kids did. (kids can be very cruel)

Quite honestly, I don’t remember that “being fat” was a bad thing when I first met Pam. It was just a thing. My Grandpa Hicks was fat … and my Granny Hicks was what I’d rather refer to as “portly” (mostly because they say I look just like her).

But I haven’t always been “portly.” Which brings me to my first “sense” of dealing with FAT CHICKS. SIGHT!

In the style of Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a FAT CHICK if you’ve ever said, “You should have seen me back when …”

Truth is … back in the days, I was not a fat chick. I just thought I was a fat chick. I remember being 13-years old and “praying” for God to give me some boobs. UGH! I was so flat-chested that it was hard to tell me from one of the guys. I wore a pre-formed padded bra for years … I even sewed pads into my bathing suits. (which was fine until I went into the water … had not tested them before camp — bad scene — many emotional scars from that little incident).

And during this time of my life, saddlebag jeans were the “in” thing. The bad thing was that the smallest size we could find was a size 7. So we bought them and seamed them up, and seamed them up until the saddlebag stitchery was completely out of sorts. I looked deformed. OH, that I wished I could be shapely like my friends.

VOILA! I’m shapely. (portly)

Here’s the real deal though … about age 15, almost overnight (which my mother said would happen) … I grew those boobs … and that butt! And I didn’t even realize I had sprouted until some boys told me so … and it wasn’t too long afterwards that I could see that I was becoming more and more shapely … In one year, I went from 97 lbs. to 117 lbs. At 16, I weighed 125 lbs. and my boyfriend told me that I was fat.

(I hate him now, by the way)

I was a cheerleader when I was 16, and of the six of us, I was one of two bases. Do you know what kind of a cheerleader gets to be base? THE FAT CHEERLEADER! (the climbers only weighed about 90 lbs. then) (It is some just reward that all but one of them have hiefered out too — so it happens to the best of us.)

I remember having my picture made at age 17 with my sweetheart at the Homecoming Dance. I was wearing a pink oxford shirt and pink dickies (like those things are flattering anyway). I weighed a whopping 130 and I thought I was so fat because I had a little pudge in the gut. GEEZ! I look at that picture now and I think, “WOW! What a looker!!!”

I blame all my weight gain after this point on that “sweetheart” in the picture. After all, it was only when I started dating him that I started eating chocolate milkshakes and BBQ potato chips while watching TV late at night. (gained about 15 more pounds over the next year).

Married him and weighed 145 in my wedding dress. Got pregnant and gained another 20 … lost 10 and got pregnant again, and gained another 25. He found another “voluptous chick” and suddenly I lost 240 (200 for him and 40 of my own). Discovered aerobics and kept a svelt body at 180 for years …

Then, I turned 40. And no more updates on the scales.

All in all, I kept looking back at pictures from the past and think, “I thought I was fat then … I WASN’T FAT!!! Who the heck told me I was FAT? I looked good!”

One day I was looking through my high school yearbook … from my senior year. The last year I was really skinny. (under 130) And I noticed Pam was not in the annual. I could not remember that she had dropped out of school … in fact, I thought she had graduated with us, but honestly, I could not remember for sure. So I asked around and found out that after our Freshman year … Pam didn’t get her picture made any more.

Pam married, had children …. and I’ve seen her since at the ballpark and such. She’s exactly the same … and I’m not.

My daughter, who has always had a problem with weight, tells me that “at least you had a time in your life when you were slim and looked good.”

Yep, you should have seen me way back when …

Sometimes, in my self-pity parties, I look around and I see some very beautiful FAT CHICKS … and I see many of them with men (husbands even) who seem to love them anyway.

I sit and wonder … is it so difficult to love someone who is obviously not the ideal as the media and the world would deem so? Surely, these women have the same heart and spirit that they had when they were slimmer. And I asked of myself, “Has the weight you’ve gained destroyed the person you once were?”

Therein may lie the rub.

If indeed beauty is in the eyes of the beholder … who could love a FAT CHICK?

Psalm 45:11
The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord.

Proverbs 30:31
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Prayer:

Father God, here I stand … in Your Presence … just as I am. Lord, I once heard a friend say that she wanted to see the “woman” that You see in her. Lord, help me and all who read this to place our trust … our identity … our security … and our confidence in You and only You. I pray God that You will help me to be beautiful in Your Eyes … by becoming more and more like Your Precious Son Jesus. Thank you, Lord, for loving me … and loving my friends … in spite of outward appearances. Thank you, Lord … for seeing the heart of a woman. I love you dearly.

In Jesus name,
AMEN.

I read this on refrigerator magnet once, “Inside every FAT CHICK there is a skinny woman screaming to get out!”

Can you hear her? “Help! I’m trapped inside this vault … I’m smothering … I need to get out and do aerobics and run and turn cartwheels again. Somebody please … help me get out of this bondage!!!”

True enough, I suppose that there is a skinny girl trying to get out. You can read all the books you want to about “loving yourself” and “having a positive attitude and self image” but it’s all just jargon if all you can HEAR is the yelling from inside.

Dealing with the second of the FIVE SENSES to make sense on this FAT CHICKS TOUR, it’s utterly amazing the things you hear people say that are supposed to make you feel better about yourself. Let me throw out a few … (I’m not sure where or how far this will go so please filter the blog from you 16-under crowd.)

Example #1: Maybe you should go to the tanning bed … after all tan fat is more attractive than white fat. ( I wish I was a black woman)

Example #2: Wearing all black is slenderizing. Have you thought about updating your wardrobe? (Again … black is beautiful.)

Example #3: There is “a” prettiness about you. It’s hard to describe … but there is something. (Oh, well, thank you for digging into your pocket of compliments)

Example #4: I’ve found that FAT CHICKS make better lovers. They’re so happy to “get some” — they will do most anything you want. ( I hope he gains 100 pounds)

Example #5: You are everything I want in a woman … except you’re FAT. (Well, shucks, I hate to be such a disappointment. I was so close to utopia.)

Example #6: Well, sooner or later, you’re weight won’t matter because as men get older, looks are less and less important. Just be patient. (REALLY? I mean, REALLY?)

I wonder, why in the world does that skinny girl want to get out so badly if this is the mentality that she’ll encounter.

But I tell you, once I did run across a FINE RUSSIAN waiter who had the perfect attitude and said the BEST THING concerning FAT CHICKS … follow this:

A friend and I were having lunch at a local Greek restaurant. We’d thoroughly enjoyed our gyros and/or lasagna. Then our fine Russian waiter came to the table and said in his distinct and kurt Russian accent, “Would you ladies enjoy some dessert?”

We both looked at each other and said, “Well, no, we’d better not. We’ve already eaten too much.”

He said rather firmly, “I tell you this! In my country, bones are for dogs and meat is for men!”

That’s all I needed to hear. I said most decisively, “Then you bring me a piece of baklava!”

So perhaps, rather than having a screaming skinny girl living inside me … I just need to relocate to another country … where full-bodied womanliness can be embraced and we can find something better to be yelling about!!!

Job 37

1 “At this my heart pounds
and leaps from its place.

2 Listen! Listen to the roar of his voice,
to the rumbling that comes from his mouth.

3 He unleashes his lightning beneath the whole heaven
and sends it to the ends of the earth.

4 After that comes the sound of his roar;
he thunders with his majestic voice.
When his voice resounds,
he holds nothing back.

5 God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways;
he does great things beyond our understanding.

6 He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’
and to the rain shower, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’

7 So that all men he has made may know his work,
he stops every man from his labor.

Father God, thank you for making us all in Your image. Surely You alone know what perfection is … and surely, it is Your opinion and Your voice that we need to give our most attention. Lord, when words fall on our ears that are less than complimentary … when we hear messages in the media and sense that we are not measuring up — physically … help us all to listen for Your Sweet Voice … listen to Your Heart Beat. Help us Lord to know that you have loved us with an everlasting love …
Whisper to us … whether we are FAT or SKINNY … whatever the blemish on our appearance … that we are Your daughters and we can trust what we HEAR from You.

In Jesus Name.

Amen.

I’ve often thought that I really did not have to put food in my mouth in order for it to cause “package” on my mid-section.  I wonder, except for being able to smell smoke so one could get out of the house alive, is the sense of smell that necessary to survival?

I knew a woman once who had lost all sense of smell. (I think it was due to excessive cigarette smoking … especially of the menthol brand)  But the gist is, even without a sense of smell, she still came to that stage in life where she was a overweight.  (Her daughter, however, could smell just fine … and was overweight all her life — BUT SHE HAD A PRETTY FACE … and was never at a loss for men)

Anyway, back to smell.  In dealing with with weight issues over the years, I was once advised that the smell of spearmint will curb one’s appetite. (Well, so does the smell of Stetson, but therein lies the rub!)

So, I opted to chew spearmint gum … burn candles that were scented like spearmint … and I kept spearmint pieces of candy in my drawer at work and my pocket book.  I now hate the smell/taste/feel of spearmint. (but on the other hand, I still love the smell of Stetson … or Michael Jordan … and even Ole’ Spice)

A few years ago, however, I came across a smell that was even more overpowering that all those other “man-smells.”  In the midst of a personal health crisis … a friend of mine came to me, with her annointing oil … rubbed it between her hands and placed her hand on my (fat) stomach where there lay a tumor inside.

I said, “mmmm… what a wonderful and interesting smell.”

She placed her hands underneath my nose and said, “Yes. It smells like God.”

After she prayed for me, the smell lingered all day.  In fact, it lingered into the night. I remember lying in my recliner sleeping … having spent several hours in prayer … to be awakened by a sudden strong sense of that smell … God’s smell.  The room had become incredibly warm just as I awoke … and I knew … I KNEW that the presence of God was in that room.  Tears began to roll down my cheeks … I could smell Him … and I knew that He was with me.  Close enough to smell … and I wasn’t afraid about the tumor any more.

So back to the other question, is the sense of smell really that necessary to survival?

Well, what if I could not have sensed that smell that night … I might not have realized that Jesus was in the room with me … and yes, that is absolutely necessary to survival.

Since that time, (because I shared the experience with Jack), we have always loved to go by the oil section in a local Christian bookstore and “smell God.”

And, as I’ve researched this, I have found that hundreds of times the phrase, “an aroma pleasing to God” is used … especially in reference to sacrifices made to Him.  I guess that  there are essences that God would not prefer to smell.  Smells that would ruin or curb anyone’s appetite.  (I’m certain I’ve sent too many such smells in His direction)

But alas, in 2 Corinthians, Paul offers these words in regard to our “offering” …

2 Corinthians 2

14  But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.

15  For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.

Father God … thank You for Jesus. Thank you for making Him the propitiation for my sins … and this terrible stench of the life I too often lead here on earth.  Thank you God for giving me the opportunity to know Your Presence … Your Aroma … and to realize that every sense You have given to me … to us … Your Children, is necessary and vital to our survival in a way that brings glory to Your Son.  I’m so grateful that the AROMA you sense from me is now filtered through Jesus.
Lord, when  we become so consumed with the things of this life that are supposed to make us different or better …  such as a fragrance or a smell … remind us that we are pleasing to You when we smell like Your Son … living for Him and He living through us in all humility, brokenness and grace.

Help us Lord … each day … to smell like You.

In Jesus name.

Amen.

Did you know that it burns more calories than you gain by eating celery. (that is unless you spread a spoonful of peanut butter on it — or pimento cheese — or cream cheese)

I actually like celery but that’s not all I want to eat. Geez! And I wonder, could a person really live on celery alone? Nah!

Celery is meant to be chopped up and put in Thanksgiving dressing and stuff like that. It’s not meant to be a diet.

I had a “nurse practitioner” tell me that the best way to lose weight is to eat several small meals a day … at 100 calories each. “100 calories?” What’s that, a celery stick?

Back in the days, (when I was skinny and svelt) I used to cook. In fact, that’s how I wrangled my first husband, I’m sure of it. I took great pains with my cooking until he got to “playing pool all night long on his nights off” and I got to not caring what I cooked. After he left with a new cook, me and the girls just ate whatever.

I became a busy person … a work-a-holic … and laid all my culinary talents to the side. Who needs them, right? I’ve found that when I have bought good ingredients to “start cooking again, ” they have gone to waste because it takes “time” to cook … and busy FAT CHICKS ain’t got time to cook … we’ll just run by the drive thru. (where they rarely ever serve celery sticks)

Since my son came along … and he’s more picky than my first ex-husband. (yeh, I only have one, I know) … TASTE in food seems of little importance. My son’s logic in not eating certain foods is that “it doesn’t feel right in my mouth.” It’s all about texture.

Well, I for one have found that taste and texture are an acquired satisfaction in life … and you have to experiment a little with foods to find out that they can be quite delicious and good for you.

But there are a few that just make about as much sense as well, “eating and exercising” on celery sticks. For instance, pickled beets? My friend Skip describes them this way, (in his Larry the cable guy fashion) … “Pickled beets ARE edible … they’re just not cravable.” Have you ever heard anyone say, “I am really craving some pickled beets.”

Another thing that blows my mind is “pickled pig feet.” YIKES!!! I remember Granny Hicks having that on her table … along with cornmeal gravy, cracklins, and oh yeh, pickled beets. It ain’t right … if you have to pickle something to make it edible … why not just go with the celery sticks.

Back in the days, (childhood and teenage years) when I was probably under-nourished, (but my mom says, “At least you were skinny then”), I can remember what Jack meant about texture. My mom made homemade chili with real tomotoes with the peeling on them and I gagged all the time with those slimy pieces of skin in my mouth.

She made meatloaf and always poured a can of Spanish rice into it … and it turned out looking like Alpo or something somebody had already eaten … and I just could not put it in my mouth.

She’d find a sale at the grocery store on green peas and buy 10 cans at a time. Something none of us wanted to eat … but the one thing that she did make well was a hamburger goolash. I remember she was cooking it once and I thought, “Hey finally, something good for supper.” when all of the sudden she took out a can of those green peas and pour into the goolash. We couldn’t eat it. It just wasn’t right.

So there are somethings in life that just leave a bad taste in your mouth. Some things that will scar you for life if you taste it. We never had a whole lot of grocery in our house as we were growing up (but we did have plenty of cigarettes and coffee) (oh, and green peas). I remember I used to say, “when I grow up and get a job, the first thing I’m going to buy is groceries!” And that’s what I’ve always done.

Whether with foodstamps or the last penny I’ve had, my kids have not been hungry. (and my mother says, “that’s why you’ve gained so much weight.” She still rarely buys groceries) So I don’t think her point should be that all food is bad … it’s just the choice of foods.

I remember that first paycheck … I bought a deli sandwich and a honey bun. MMMMM.

Of late in my life, I’ve opted for fast, easy, and loaded with carbs.

Here’s the funny thing … I do love green peas now. I rarely mix them with other stuff (OCD) … but I do love them. I will buy celery to practice that statement about the chewing and the calories … but I rarely finish the stalk. In fact, I usually forget that I have celery until its “slimey.” (ohhh, bad texture — bad taste)

So what’s the point of all this, huh? Well, I have discovered that rather than using food for nutrition sake … I tend to use it for “comfort” sake. If I get upset, there’s nothing but a peanut butter sandwich to calm my nerves. And THAT is as bad an addiction as anything … and certainly does leave a bad taste in my mouth.

I should be going to Jesus for comfort … just like every other “a-holic” in the world. There’s plenty of programs in this world to help with eating disorders and just being fat … but, only ONE who can heal … and help us recover from the bondage and crutches we have in life.

The bible says, “Taste … and see that the Lord is good.”

Psalm 34:1-9

I will extol the LORD at all times;
his praise will always be on my lips.

2 My soul will boast in the LORD;
let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

3 Glorify the LORD with me;
let us exalt his name together.

4 I sought the LORD, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.

5 Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.

6 This poor man called, and the LORD heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.

7 The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.

8 Taste and see that the LORD is good;
blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

9 Fear the LORD, you his saints,
for those who fear him lack nothing.

So, it’s not like this eating or fat thing has taken God by surprise. He is beckoning me … and you … to come to Him … and let Him be all that we need to taste the goodness of life and ourselves.

Father God, thank you for the blessing of taste. Thank you that we can use this sense to enjoy the goodness of Your Earth.  Help us, Lord, to remember that food is for sustenance to use for Your Glory and Your Honor.  And that You, above all, are all that we truly need to satisfy every hunger in our hearts, minds and souls.

In Jesus name,

Amen. 

Of all the senses that we have as human beings … sight, taste, smell, sound … the sense of touch may be the one we take most for granted.  And we only realize its incredible value when we go without for so long.

 It’s just not healthy to be without human touch. In thinking of this, I’m reminded of the woman with the issue of blood … “untouchable” … and she knew that if she could just “touch” the hem of Jesus garments that she would be healed.  For twelve years she had suffered … not only from a physical condition but I suspect that she also suffered from an emotional malnutrition that is caused from the lack of human touch.   I know it doesn’t say so in the Bible … but what else can we surmise when we know that she was ostracized by the community because of her physical condition.

 Being a “FAT CHICK” is not necessarily indicative of one who is lacking in human touch.  There are all sorts of people who go “touchless” or “hug-less” every day.  But in this world where we allow the media to determine what is acceptable, beautiful … touchable … or something that we should “grab hold of,”  one can look all around and see people who could use a genuine, heart-felt touch … from someone who really cares.

I know that not all touches are synonymous would good, positive feelings. And sometimes, when we long for touch, we accept those negative touches as “the way life is” or “something’s better than nothing” or some other lie from Satan.  It’s the desperation for some kind of human connection … that leads us to accept this and then suffer from it.

 
I remember (sadly and ashamedly) when I was a child, about 11 or 12 (when everyone is just very stupid) … there was a girl in our class who was taller (much taller) and “bigger” than everyone else. Her hair was very curly and un-kept and she wore dresses all the time. She was not stylish at all and everything about her demeanor would say that she was withdrawn, had low self-esteem and no confidence at all in her appearance or her person. We, the kids she went to school with, did not help.  Her name was Vera.  And I remember one or two of the boys would run over to her in class or on the playground … touch her as if touching a hot stove … then run away and put their hands on someone else and say, “Shew!  Now you’ve got Vera-germs.”  I was no better than they for I did nothing to stand up for Vera or stop the ridicule. I just stayed away from her too.   I have sometimes wondered what happen to Vera. I don’t even know that she ever had a friend in our school. I don’t even think the teachers gave her much attention. She was just “there,” but ostracized and all alone.  Then a few weeks ago, I saw her in Kohls.  She looked mostly the same, just older … still in dresses, still curly rather unkept hair and still, a bit withdrawn.  I wanted to say, “Hello Vera,” but I figured she would not know me at all … and if I mentioned Benton Elementary, it would probably not be something she wanted to remember. (I missed the opportunity to make a “touch” and a “mends.”)

 Back to the woman with the issue.  There the crowd pressed around Jesus. She was not even supposed to get too close to the crowd, much less the Teacher … the Rabbi. Can you see her hunkered down, trying to slip through the crowd … being pushed, shoved aside … maybe even avoided by some that recognized her.  Her mind and heart had to be numbed by this social rejection after so long.  She probably had a great wall of bitterness … a scowl on her face perhaps … a longing in her eyes like she was on the verge of rage or tears.  Can you see her crawling, trying to get to “touch” His garment?  It was her last resort. 

It should be our first resort!

 Being without touch is so desperately lonely.  Regardless of one’s physical condition, touch is a necessity in life.  Touch is an incredibly powerful element to life.  It fosters “trust” and offers “healing” and brings about “connection” in ways that nothing else in this world can. 

 Jesus touched lepers, blind men, cripples, women, children, dead people, sinners … He touched hearts both physically and emotionally.  Have you touched any of those kinds of people lately?  Have you touched a FAT CHICK? 

 Can you see in our society that there are many mixed messages and understandings about touch. We know that it’s vital to survival … but we usually are only willing to touch that which we KNOW is safe or familiar. 

 When you get the change from the girl in the drive-thru at McDonalds … do your hands touch … or do you purposefully try to take your money without any touch.  When your hands do touch … do you notice any kind of “bell” going off in your head?  Something that may say nothing more than … “Oops. I touched her.”

 Do you hesitate to accept touch … perhaps because of mistrust that you have associated with touch. Or worse yet, because you have misgivings about “what they will feel” when they touch you … all the lumps and bulges, bumps and nicks; too much hair – not enough muscle.  Or are you one of those creepy people who won’t touch someone who has those and other imperfections?

 Father God … thank you … thank you that you fully understand the ministry of touch. Thank you that you are not afraid or ashamed to touch any of us. Thank you, Lord, that you look upon the heart of a man (or woman) and you see the essence of the person who really just needs the touch of Your Hand.  Thank you, that Your Hand created us in Your Image… lumps, bumps, bulges, nicks, cracks, sags, fuzzy or slick as we may be.  And thank You for loving us so much that You sent Your Son to touch our lives … give His life … for us … such as we are.

 

In Jesus Name,

Amen.

 

Shackled by a heavy burden.
‘Neath a load of guilt and shame.
Then the Hand of Jesus touched me.
And now, I am no longer the same.

He Touched me … OH, He TOUCHED ME!
And Oh, the joy that floods my soul.

Something happened and now I know …
He TOUCHED me and made me whole.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Okay. I admit. I may be a little overweight.

This problem has indeed altered certain areas of my life. For example, where  in days gone by I could go “skinny-dipping” , I must now resort and refer to this as “chunky-dunkin”  … should I actually lose all common sense and partake in such an activity.

A few years ago, I took my son to a county fair and of course, he wanted to ride the rides.  I refrained from most all of them because quite frankly, I don’t find them as thrilling as I once did. (not due to my voluptousness, but my age)  However, I did succumb to riding the “SCRAMBLER” which was always my favorite.   When the “carnie” came around to close and lock the bars, I noticed that it was a much tighter fit and I had to shift in the seat to keep from damaging my diaphragm.  The common sense here is … THOSE RIDES ARE NOT SAFE FOR ANYONE for crying out loud.

Shopping activities are also altered. For example, “cute” is no longer anywhere near as important as “comfortable” regardless of whether you are shopping for shoes, clothing, or cars.  But sometimes, I slip up … and I forget the common sense of comfort … and I buy something cute.  (and then I sell it in a yard sale)

For the “Fat Chick” who is in her forties, it’s difficult to find yourself,  and present the “happening” image that you once did.   My problem may be that in my mind, I still have some of that 18-25 year old left in me who “had a skip in her beat” and could wear form-fittin’ dresses and jeans with confidence.  But in my mirror, I envy those women who have evolved to the next stage of life and are embracing “comfort” and unabashedly donning those high-waisted, pleated pants and have the common sense to throw away hip-huggers, (and the thongs to match), cropped t-shirts and anything that doesn’t have some element of elastic in the waist.  You have to admire that confidence too.

But every now and then, you can get “sucked” in to the ploys (of the enemy) that want to sell you the next “SMALL THING” that is going to help you get back to that “you” that you used to be.  Once FAT CHICKS are “on the wagon” and have started using their “common sense,” — watching QVC or INFOMERCIAL television is like an alcoholic going to a bar, or a junkie on a street corner.  POISON!  A TRAP!  Beware!!!

A few weeks ago, I was flipping channels and the “supreme comfort” of the lastest “bamboo technology” to make you “slim and lift those sagging places” caught my eye.  I watched as different women paraded across the stage in “before and after” fashion, demonstrating this “wonderful body shaping undergarment” that “miraculously transformed them.”  I was watching and waiting to see if any women, resembling my particular body shape, tried on the “miracle.”  Finally, one did.   Truly, she had some “issues” in her “before” prance that made me want to see how this “tool” could possibly correct them.  As she modeled afterwards, everything was smoothed out; she was smiling and bouncing around the stage … completely delighted with this “miracle of miracles.”  (A bit like an idiot, now that I think back on it.)

So, I thought I’d order one — to try on in the privy of my own home.  There was a 30-day, money back guarantee, so what would I have to lose?  Well, last week my “Slim ‘n Lift” (trademark) Supreme Comfort Body-Shaping Undergarment arrived, and I was eager to give it a test drive.

It came with a set of instructions that assured me of it’s quality.   (Made from NEW free-breathing, easy-to-wear, micro-fibre (French) fabric with bamboo charcoal and nylon filament for a natural sheen and softness.  The SEAMLESS knitting design is to give me a very smooth feel and seamless look!  Guaranteed to look better, fit better and feel more comfortable than “regular” undergarments.)

Now I don’t know what the makers of this “contraption” regularly wear as undergarments … but in the words of Mr. T, “I pity the fool.”

Now, when I ordered my “slim ‘n lift,” they asked me what size pants I normally wear, so I told them the truth.  But I should have lied and told them about ten sizes larger — because I think they sent me an “undergarment” based on ten sizes smaller.  I took the thing out of the box and held it up.  My nine-year old son thought it was some kind of a wrestling uniform and wanted to try it on. (But, advised him quite quickly that donning his mother’s girdle would scar him for life.)

So I went in to my bedroom, closed and locked the door, (because I also thought that accidentally walking in and seeing your mother “wrestle” with her undergarments could also be traumatizing).   True enough, as I read and tried to follow the instructions, it was some kind of a “wrestling” uniform.

1. Hold waistband and roll down to crotch gusset.  {Just in case you are wondering, “gusset” is a middle age term referring to a piece of “armour” that covers the joints on a suit of armour.  It’s also meant to provide expansion or reinforcement.  Some describe it as a “device” meant to reinforce a connection between two components. }  Doesn’t sound very easy or comfortable.
2. Insert your legs and slowly roll waistband to your hips.  {Okay … let’s just say that there’s no possible way to do this quickly … so “slow roll” is a given.  But let’s consider some other verbs in these directions besides “roll.”  How about tug, twist, contort, stretch, strain and curse!}
3. Insert your hand and lift buttock to desire position. {I wish you could have seen the look on my face then … and even now, as I recall the perplexity of this.   At this point, trying to keep both of my “buttock cheeks” inside this sausage casing was like putting two fighting cats in a small sack.  It was a fight!  It was literally impossible to fit one more body part into this thing … so obviously I could not lift my buttocks into “desired” position}
4. Adjust “Slim ‘n Lift” (trademark) from below the bust line to above the knee line.  {Bust line????  I was still working on the “butt” line.}

I got the frazzlin’ thing on finally and walked over to look in the mirror to see the transformed me.  I was all ready to put on that smile and model and prance like they did on TV.  But much to my chagrin, it was not a smile but a grimace that I saw on my face.  Rather than “breathing freely” as promised … I could hardly breathe at all. (oh, it was the girdle that was “free-breathing)

I had pulled it up under my bustline as instructed, but suddenly I started feeling an excruciating headache and I was afraid I was cutting off blood flow to my head and on the verge of a stroke.  So I proceeded to “unroll” the garment …. NO!  I got out of that torture device as quickly as I could.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, re-reading the instructions to see if Imight have missed a step … or even overlooked the “shoe-horn” device that might have come with it to help wedge myself into the “miracle of miracles.”   I noticed again the claim that it’s made from the “latest bamboo technology.”  And I thought, “Don’t they use bamboo in some countries to beat and torture people?”   The pictures in the direction were not of those voluptous women on the television, which made me wonder that they might not have survived the modeling experience of  their “more comfortable than regular undergarment.” 

I should have used the common sense that God gave me.  If it looks like a girdle, feels like a girdle, and hurts like a girdle … my FAT CHICK friends … the thing is a girdle.  And the definition of girdle is “something that encircles and CONFINES.”

And what in my right and common sense mind would have me believe that I have ever or would ever appreciate “confinement.” 

Needless to say, the “Slim ‘n Lift” (trademark) Supreme Comfort Body Shaping Undergarment (the nude and the black for one great price), made of the latest bamboo technology will not become part of my regular undergarment supply. 

I honestly don’t know how anything could be more comfortable than Granny-panties and a cotton house dress … I mean really … IT IS JUST COMMON SENSE, right?  And when it comes to “girding” up things, and donning gussets, Paul says it best in Ephesians 6 that we should be “armoured up” in order to withstand the fiery darts of Satan, and not fall into the traps (and contraptions) that he sets for us.

The Armor of God

 ¹⁰Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. ¹¹Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. ¹²For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. ¹³Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. ¹⁴Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, ¹⁵and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. ¹⁶In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. ¹⁸And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.

Father God, Thank you for setting me free. Thank you that I don’t have to live in bondage, and succumb to traps and schemes that will lead to pain, discomfort, torment … when I keep my senses focused on you and allow You to determine my identity.  Lord, it’s true … there are aspects about me that are not as they should be.  There are things about me that I can change and some things that I cannot change.  I asked for your help in discerning how to deal with those things whether they be physical, emotional or spiritual.  Let me never settle for less than your perfect will for me, but please help me to see the woman that You see in me and accept her as your beloved daughter. 

For all who read this blog or devotional, Lord God I asked You to guard their hearts and minds (as well as mine) against the schemes of the enemy that might lead them into traps, or even use devices that would cause them to conform to the world’s image of  “acceptable” rather than seeing the beauty that you have created in each of us.  I love you, Lord and I thank you for saving me.  I thank you for forgiveness and redemption and for being able to come to you “just as I am.”

In Jesus Name,

Amen.