Terrie's Tales - July 28, 2010

I don’t like full length mirrors. They are bad. They are even worse when placed under fluorescent lighting.

I used to hate to go shopping because I could never find anything to fit my scrawny self. I realize that many of you have just thrown me under the whambulance for that last statement. I can’t help it. However, you all will be glad to know that I’m moving up to more woman like sizes. Let’s face it, at my age I really don’t need to be shopping in the juniors. Ya’ll would really be talking about me then.

Hey Yanci, now we can go to the Dress Barn. Why on earth would they name a dress store for women anything with the word barn in it. It’s like, “come on in cows to the dress barn”. No way. Why could that not name it something like Dress Island. See that sounds like a vacation. Or Dress Castle. That sounds like a fairy tale. Yanci said they have really cute clothes. Well that may be, but I’ll just stick to Old Navy. Wait. That’s got the word old in it. I can’t win this battle, can I?

I’ve noticed something. Every odd numbered year of my age, I notice something about my physical self that ages me. Okay, right about now any male readers that might be reading this (all 3 of you) might want to stop reading and go check the arrest report or click on the Brookshires Bros ad to see what meat is on sale. You really don’t want to read what comes next. I’m about to reveal some dirty little secrets that: a.) will alarm you or 2.) will explain some things about us girls that you probably already knew but will confirm for you in your mind that we are as crazy as you think we are.

Ok. So when I was about 31 this all started. One day, I’m getting dressed and I see my back side. Now that probably doesn’t sound that unusual to you, but I was facing forward. Let’s be clear. I was seeing the reflection of the front of my body, but at the same time I see parts of my back side. It was awful.

At age 33 I was pregnant with Emilee, so that year doesn’t count.

Then when I was about 35, I’m taking myself a nice warm relaxing bath. As I’m slipping down into the water, I am surprised to see that I have love handles. Have those been there all along?

I can’t remember what happened at 37. Maybe that was it, I lost my memory.

At 39, I was hit with a double whammy. Bat wings and gray hair. I was trying to let my hair color go ala’ natural. Well, forget that. I’ve pulled about a dozen two inch long gray hairs from the top of my head. It wasn’t hard to see them, because they stick straight up! No more.

I was lamenting to Liza about my bat wings the other day and she says ever so compassionately, “Oh, you mean your Bingo arms?” Yes. Thank you, Liza. Bingo arms. That sounds much better.

I’ve turned to flab.

A male supervisor at the plant overheard some of us ladies talking one day. He’s a nice guy so he says, “Ya’ll look good.” I exclaim, “You’d be surprised what a pair of stretch jeans and a push up bra can do.” He promptly excuses himself.

I’m in Wal-Mart one Saturday before noon. Emilee and I made a dash there for something I needed for a recipe. Being before noon means, I’ve left the house sans make-up and my greasy undone hair pushed back by a headband and jelly on my shirt. I’m just a regular beauty that’s for sure.

As I’m rounding a corner, I’m face to face with a real beauty. Mrs. Lola Wilson. Have you ever seen Mrs. Lola undone? I think not. Hair perfectly coiffed. Lipstick perfectly applied. Nails always always done. No amount of pain in her hands and joints keeps her from looking her absolute best. I am ashamed and vow to never never go to Wal-Mart looking like that again.

The truth is; if I were deeply upset by my appearance, I would do something about. I could do some of those dorky exercises my mother used to do when she was my age or not eat a bowl of ice cream and Little Debbie snacks every day. I’ll probably just buy bigger britches and avoid full length mirrors whenever possible. That means one of you is going to have to tell me if my skirt is ever tucked accidentally into my drawers.

I have learned something else about my image. Genesis Chapter one verse 26 and verse 27 tells me that God created me in His image. How exciting to know that every time I look into the mirror that the image I see was created by God and in His image. Verse 31 “And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” Maybe mirrors are not so bad after all.