That Blue Dress

On embracing my changing body

At the amazing Ark Encounter with one of my daughters (in my teal skirt!)

I see in a small boutique and consider a dress for Resurrection Sunday, a pretty patchwork patterned blue with a wide waist elastic band and rows of fine layers down to my shins. It has a lovely neckline, perfect for a necklace or two, and, perhaps more importantly, when I try it on is comfortable and makes me feel pretty.

But I do not take it home.

I leave it at the shop, even though my husband says I should buy it. Why? Because although it fits my form, I am not happy with my form, and I am shallow enough to reluctantly leave it on the hanger for someone else to find.

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Menopause has given me common gifts: a squishy middle, new stray hairs where they do not belong, a brooding mood that seemingly comes from nowhere for no reason whatsoever. My hourglass figure isn’t so hourly, and most of my legs haven’t seen the light of day in years. Furthermore, whereas I used to clip along at life at a measured and confident pace, my mind and my body have now downshifted into lower gear, and everything truly rattles if I attempt to push either one any faster. Proverbs 31 whispers to me, that beauty is fleeting, is vain.

Also, this from Psalms 147:10 …he taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man. Whom am I trying to please? What, or whose, standard am I trying to fit into?

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I leave a few weeks thereafter to attend the women’s Answers in Genesis RESOLUTE conference, a real dream as I have yearned to attend for many years. At the airport, I look around and consider the variety of women my age, what they wear, and how they look. This is the generation I grew up with, riding banana seat bicycles, passing notes in class, hefting backpacks full of brown paper covered textbooks, wearing our feathered hair and colorful eye shadow, and watching our music on MTV after school. How are they feeling about all of the changes, I wonder.

It’s an eclectic mix of all body shapes, dress, hair and stature, but the commonalities are there. No one is wearing naturally colored hair unless it is greying, and no one’s legs would show up on a music video. The most attractive women I find are carrying themselves with a relaxed posture and are obviously comfortable in their dress. Their hair is tidy, their jewelry discreet, and perhaps more importantly, they hold their heads high and are willing to meet your eye with a smile.

I wonder if they see that in me.

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It wasn’t easy packing a week’s worth of clothing in my carry on suitcase, but I managed to zip the baggage shut. I should have thought of that lack of room while perusing the gift shop clothing while at the Creation Museum.

At one point, I finger and consider a wide cotton skirt with a four inch elastic waistband. The teal color and fabric are lovely, and I know my post-babyhood, menopausal middle would appreciate the support. The label states, “one size fits all” and I don’t even try it on. I just buy it and hope my bag will stretch to allow for it to go home.

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Later that week, I introduce my Pacific Northwest traveling buddies (HT Veggie Tales Jonah movie) to Cracker Barrel, that strange combination of rocking chairs, comfort food, and a shop full of candy, clothing, and knick knacks. After enjoying the cornbread and conversation with our southern drawled waitress, we meander through the shop. One of my friends finds a tan hat to wear on our upcoming horse trail ride. I see a floral dress, coral colored, with a dropped waist and tie back, similar to what I loved to wear in my twenties.

I am not in my twenties anymore. As if.

But still. I wander around and around and finally loop around back to the dress on the flimsy hanger and pick it up, hold it at arm’s length, and interview it in my mind. I’m afraid to try it on, but I know what I like and I like this dress. I purchase it before changing my mind.

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Days later, I decide to wear my Cracker Barrel dress to the conference, and it feels so lovely I can’t help but feel pretty in it, even though (or perhaps because of) I had no full length mirror to confirm nor refute my thinking.

Somewhere between learning about the spiritual practices of yoga, the history of the enneagram, and the true work of the Holy Spirit, a couple of women stop me as I pass by in the aisle.

“We just love your dress! It’s so pretty on you, where did you get it?”

I laugh and put my hand to my mouth, ready to share the shocking secret, “Cracker Barrel…”

They find this equally as funny and one exclaims, “Why, we’re heading there for supper!”

I remember this sweet complement later when I see a photo of myself wearing it, plump with winter-white legs sticking out.

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My clothing now is fairly simple, typically a skirt or pair of jeans with layered tops, usually in black. My closet offerings are relatively small, as I figure there are only seven days in the week to dress for. I do not keep what does not fit, regardless of how sad that may make me to part with, and concentrate on that which is modest and makes me feel good. I no longer have to consider the ever morphing weights and shapes of pregnancy, postpartum, and nursing; the size I am is the size I am.

I now appreciate elastic, loose or fluid clothing, and sensible shoes. I currently own and wear brimmed hats on a regular basis, as they keep my head warm and my eyeglasses dry.

As I ponder these things, I realize that though my form has changed and I miss having more of a waist, I would not change the life I’ve been blessed to have in this body of mine, worn that it is, that has carried me thus far. I recognize that catalog models and women on the screens mostly do not reflect real life, at least compared with the variety of women I surveyed at the airport. They also do not reflect the lifestyle of mommying and homesteading and homemaking that I love. I still aim to be healthy, watch what I eat, lift heavy things, and walk, but my expectation and hopes of retrieving the body of a twenty-something-yesteryear-woman is thankfully over.

I am grateful for the body I have. I feel pretty. And, yes, I did go back and buy that blue dress.