Old Clothes

by calulu

rolling-eyes

A couple of days ago I got a good lesson in the distance I’ve traveled since I left the fundamentalist Quiverful church I attended for many years. As I was dressing for the day I pulled out a skirt and blouse I’d worn many times back in those church going days. I’d loved that skirt, soft blue and white corduroy that fell in graceful folds almost to my ankles and the accompanying fuzzy blue sweater. I couldn’t remember why I’d not worn them for ages, at least until I’d donned both garments.

Once I looked into the mirror I knew why, there was no going back to immure my body like it was a ticking time bomb or nuclear waste in yards of fabric. Wearing what essentially was a Hefty bag of cotton felt wrong on every level now. This attempt to be modest by dressing like a potato sack now seems to me like a foolishly prideful ‘look at my holiness’ thing to do. Not very modest at all.

The body is beautiful just as it is. So why were they encouraging us to cover up like it’s dangerous? I was told for years it was to keep from luring any man into the sin of lust and to show respect. If a man lusts because you are showing your bare arm then who exactly has the problem?

I threw away the sweater and the skirt now sits on my sewing pile awaiting refitting.

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