| 6:46p |
Like a zebra at a crossing
My mum's theory on why the boys I liked sometimes didn't like me back was because I was "so fragile and delicate". I can be quite insecure at times, you see. A lot of people find this to be quite surprising, as I am a very outgoing and giggly person. But, just like everyone else, I worry that I'm not good enough at times, and I worry what people think about me, and I worry a lot in general.
And so, of course, it is always nice to be proven wrong in such situations. Take my lunch, for example. In my attempt to become a totally amazing and accomplished cook, I have taken to cooking pasta and bringing it to work for lunch. Yesterday, I was making a tomatoey sauce to go with some pretty seashell-shaped pasta. Unfortunately, in response to my love of everything salty, I dumped A WHOLE TIN of anchovies into the sauce. And so today, I spent a lot of my morning dreading lunchtime, when I would be forced to eat the spoiled fruit of my labour. But alas! The pasta sauce was actually yummy! It wasn't genius cuisine, but it was still tasty and non-yucky. And I felt better about myself.
Clothing can cause everyone great moments of angst. All it takes is a skirt that we might have forgotton was too short, or a shirt that might be a little bit loud, and all of a sudden we turn into totally self-conscious window-reflection-gazers, plaguing our friends with whispers of, "Are you SURE I look okay?" If you know me well, you might also be surprised to read that, at times, I too suffer from wardrobe insecurities. Most people know me as a very eccentric dresser- I sported very spiky hair and a tutu in my university days, and was often in stripey socks and rainbow colours. But the truth is, I'm just as scared as everyone else about wearing outrageous clothes. Perhaps the difference is that I just choose to wear what I wear and brave the worries and weird looks. And it's liberating and fun.
Anyway, on the weekend, I went along with Geoff to a housewarming barbeque. I was going along as "Geoff's girlfriend", because they were friends of his from church that I still don't know that well. As I spend most of my time in an office in more subdued outfits, I have begun to embrace weekends as times where I can unleash my inner punk. I thought that the perfect outfit to wear to this outdoor, backyard barbeque was what I was wearing: hot pink Converse hi-tops, black tights that made footless by cutting the feet off myself, a furry zebra-print mini-skirt that I'd bought at an op-shop for $7, a black t-shirt and visor-like black sunglasses. I was Fran Fine going to a Blondie concert. But upon arriving at the barbeque, I realised that my gut instincts were wrong. Everyone was semi-dressed up, and looking very sleek and refined. The girls were in silky, pastel beaded tops and swirly skirts, and the boys were wearing proper shirts and trousers. It was like in "Bridget Jones' Diary", when Bridget Jones turns up to a poshy party dressed as a bunny. Only I was dressed as a zebra.
No-one really said anything about my outfit, so I was quite convinced that I looked very silly. After the barbeque, I headed straight to my grandparents' house, because we were having a birthday dinner for my Aunt Anne. I figured that as I would be seeing my family, they would be honest with me; they would tell me straight out: "What are you wearing? You look ridiculous!" But as soon as my mother and her sisters saw me, they cried out, "You look soooooo cute!" and "I love your skirt!" When my own sister Sonya saw me, she said, "Great outfit!" I told her my story about being a zebra at the dressy barbeque, and she said, "But wouldn't you decide not to care, because you looked so cool anyway?" And I thought about what she said, and I realised that she was right. Not that I looked cool (that is always questionable), but that if you think you look funky, then you should go ahead and think it and not worry about what anybody else thinks or says.
I don't think that insecurities ever go away. I know that I should stop pretending that I'm not worried about how people see me, and admit how I feel instead. But while we're fighting our inner doubts, let's embrace the person that God's made us to be. In the Psalms section section of the Bible, one psalmist writes to God, "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." (Psalm 139:14) So whether it's about little things like whether you like clean white shirts or colourful skirts, or whether it's about telling someone you respect that well, you think they're awesome: have the confidence that Someone delights in how He made you. I try to live in a way that says "thank you" to my Creator for all the little things- for colours, and sunshine and green grass, for how He made me different from anybody else on this planet. Give "thank you living" a go today! |