I found myself crying in the dressing room. All I wanted was to find one thing I felt beautiful in, one thing that I could slip into and become that confident woman who used to lure her husband with a pair of stilettos and a bat of her lashes. Now, the mascara from those lashes was running down my face. At my wedding shower, I received a closetful of tasteful and beautifully fitting lingerie. I could select something with my eyes closed and know it would look great. Two babies and a thousand stretch marks later, I found myself stifling sniffles next to a mountainous pile of “no’s.” Here I was, credit card burning a hole in my pocket, ready to spend any amount of money to feel beautiful again, and nothing was acceptable. I wish I could have blamed the unflattering fluorescent lighting, but this was how I reacted to the sight of my body anywhere. The problem wasn’t with the mirror. It was me.
I know that I’m not alone. There are entire industries founded on women’s insecurities about their bodies. We hope that if we follow the right regimen or buy the perfect product, that we will experience a miracle transformation. Despite my awareness of how it works, I find myself duped time and again. Until my son was born, though, I considered this to be my problem, my cycle of ups and downs – a struggle I could deal with. I never considered how it might affect my husband….
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Spirituality of the Ordinary 