words to live by

I read a great blog post  recently and to be honest there has been a line in there that has carried me through more than a few rough days. 

"Jesus doesn't care if my thighs touch."

Ok, there have been days that statement has brought me a giggle as I walk into work.  There have been days that it has comforted me as I lament how huge and sloppy and FAT my thighs are.  It has convicted me of my own double standard.  I see models and think they look bow legged when their thighs don't touch.  And yet I cry that my thighs barely touch when I'm standing and smoosh together in all sorts of unglamorous fattiness when I sit.  (True or not, it is what I see and is what I lament when I am alone.  Therefore it is my reality.)  Jesus doesn't care if my thighs touch, even when I criticize the too skinny model all the while criticizing my own body for not being that skinny.

When I panic about ordering pizza with my family, Jesus still doesn't care if my thighs touch.  When I sneak a piece of Dove chocolate only to feel guilty the moment I swallow it, Jesus still doesn't care if my thighs touch.  My thighs are not what makes me His daughter.  My thighs are not what I'm counting on to get me into Heaven (THANK GOD!).  My thighs ultimately have no bearing on eternity.  My thighs don't make God think I'm ugly.  My thighs somehow don't even make Hubby think I'm ugly.  The size of my thighs really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.  whew, it takes a lot of work to let something so witty transform your perspective! 

Jess, I hope you get a chance to read this post and know how much your comment has helped me.  Short, sweet and to the point, but it has made me think a LOT lately and has brought comfort on several occasions.

Tonight at work a girl came in.  She was leaning over the ice cream cooler and I noticed it, her thighs didn't touch.  I figured it was how she was standing.  Moments later she walked away from the cooler, letting her fingertips linger for just a moment longer than she maybe meant to.  She came to my register with a low cal fiber granola bar.  I wondered what the voices in her head were doing to her.  I know how brutal they can be, especially when they know you have even expressed desire for a forbidden food.  As she walked away I smiled a little because I wanted to hug her and tell her "Jesus doesn't care if your thighs touch."