The Lingerie and the Identity Crisis

First of all, let me say that I have sat on writing this blog for a few days, and am questioning writing it even now...I'm not questioning it because I don't think it's Godly; my questioning is only because I've recently become aware of certain people who have read this blog, and I don't want to offend them. I didn't set out to write this blog with the intention of changing who I am for whoever reads this; I set out to write this blog to share life experiences, hilarity, drama, and whatever else God throws my way, with as much honesty as possible. If you read this, and you're offended, I'm sorry. But I'm not going to change who God made me, and edit myself to the point that it's not an honest piece. That being said, this blog is about underwear. If the subject of underwear bothers you, well...stop reading. And skip Victoria's Secret, 'cause I think you'll probably stroke out if you walk in there, if you can't handle this. :) (said in love, people!)
I think it's possible for lingerie to spark an identity crisis. There, I said it. Here's why:
I have never had a good body image. Stretch marks, scars, bruises, acne, being overly-endowed at an early age---I've hated my body my entire life. When high school brought on the challenge of changing clothes for gym class, I tried to mask the embarrassment by hiding under the biggest T-shirts I could find. I'd try to be like other girls, and attempt to be "sexy," but I usually wound up feeling uncomfortable pretty quickly. This may surprise some people, especially considering my known love of make-up. Yeah, I love my Maybelline, but I wash it off as soon as I walk through the door at home.
When I was a young teenager, and the hormones kicked in (and my hair got so ridiculously curly), I'd try to roll the dress-code skirts and bat my eyelashes (boys never noticed me--at least, from the neck up). As I got older, and headed to college, I started favoring baggier jeans and shirts, pajamas, comfy socks, and all of the grandma-style that I still favor to this day. I consider myself a "modest mouse," and the older I get, the more convinced I am that I am terribly unstylish.
But back to the lingerie....
I'm all for comfort...consistency...support...function. Yeah, I know, every girl's got a few pairs of "lucky" panties (hey, I'm married, not dead!), but I'm such a Hanes kinda girl. Is there anything better than white cotton?!?!? I ask you!!! They're dependable, will never show through your light-colored pants, don't shrink or fall apart in the wash, and are cheap as can be, and I like them. No one sees them but David, and he doesn't seem to mind.
Going to the gym regularly has exposed me (literally) to the locker-room lifestyle. I have never really thought much about my underwear, nor have I really cared. Suddenly, in the locker room at the gym, I find my already-unstable physical self-confidence on seriously shaky ground: Every woman I have seen in that locker room is wearing not only matching lingerie, but PRETTY lingerie. Victoria's Secret lingerie. Lacey, frilly, sexy, fancy underthings that I've only seen in select stores, and would never even imagine on myself--there it goes, on women in every shape and size (yes, some of it is frightening. Anyone who's toured under my directing, where costumes were required, knows my stance on thong underwear. They're gross. Where the panties go, the skirt will follow, as will the eyes. Put it away. Oh, and just 'cause they make it in your size, DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD WEAR IT IN THE LOCKER ROOM). But these women...suddenly, as I pass the 40-something-year-old professional in her thong panties, I realize that she is not the only one wearing the sexy underwear. So are the 20 or so other women in the locker room. In fact, not only am I the only one actually bothering with a cover-up; I'm the only one in my beloved Hanes whities.
A realization strikes: I am boring.
Am I boring? Really?!?!? Here I am, functional, consistent, reliable, staid...boring in both my choice of lingerie, and in my lifestyle. Planned out, comfortable...Somewhere along the line, I put away my stiletto heels and bought Aerosole wedges. Somewhere along the line, I put away the pretty panties and bought Hanes, and never looked back. Somewhere along the the line, Cassidy became afraid of being crazy, of not caring what anyone thought, and of doing the unexpected. Somewhere along the line, fear of rejection took over, and reckless abandon went out the window.
I'm not saying that I'm going out and buying sexy panties. I know it would appear that this blog is about underwear, but it's more of a metaphor. I'm saying that I've traded faith for fear, confidence for paranoia, and fun for function. It's not who I am, and I don't want to be that way anymore.
I can't be afraid of what people think of me, whether it's in the physical or the spiritual. I can't be afraid that I'll fall, or that I'll stick my foot in mouth, or that I'll be rejected. I have to try.
I have to go out, and put one foot in front of the other, and not care....I have to ignore my cellulite, my acne, my 'fro, my curves, my "boring" tendencies, put it all aside, and do the crazy things God tells me to do.
I have to care what He thinks, and He thinks I'm beautiful.
I have to care what He thinks, and He thinks I can be bold.
I have to care what He thinks, and He thinks I can speak the words He's given me, and not sound like an idiot. He didn't make me to be afraid.
He made me to dance in my underwear. David danced in his underwear, as mentioned in the Bible (2 Sam. 6--the linen ephod? Hebrew Hanes.). The story isn't really about David and his underwear; rather, it's about his reckless abandonment in worship of God's triumphs. It's about worship without fear.
God made us to be bold, to live beyond opinion. He made us to be confident in Him, and to get past our own insecurities to do His will. He gives us self-worth...He gives beauty for our ashes, strength for our despair, joy for our mourning...He gives us what we need to live and walk in freedom in Him!!!! We don't have to live in the prison of self-doubt and insecurity, trapped to a life of boredom and faux-stability because we trust in the things we see--He takes us beyond that, to a life of flux and change, but a life anchored in Him. That's awesome!!!!
I know that I wrote this blog about underwear in a locker room...about my own insecurities and fears, my own self-esteem issues. It's not really about that, though...
It's about you.
What are the things you are afraid of? Fear is only a four-letter word; why do we let it trample us down and keep us from our freedom in Christ?
I am afraid that:
I am afraid you will not like me.
I am afraid you think I'm fat or ugly.
I am afraid you will think I'm stupid, or that I'm a "bad" Christian.
I am afraid you won't know that I love Jesus.
I am afraid you will reject me
Make fun of me
Or ostracize me from you and your friends.
My fears make you into gods, but I am not into idolatry.
So I'm finished with my fears of you (didn't know you were so powerful, did you?). My identity crisis is completed with the revelation/revolution that I am grounded in Christ and what He thinks of me...and if He wants me to dance in my underwear, I will...if He wants me to dance while I strip away every pretense that I have, every false representation of who I am, for Him, I will...if He wants me to dance while my heart breaks from the world that I live in, I will (and I have). If He wants me to dance and bear my soul, so He can shed His light on it all, I will. He is the Lover of my soul, and I will dance for Him alone...