We were at Burger King because my kids like Whoppers and it was baseball season and it was just easy.
I reached over to the nice lady handing me our food and my sweet, precious delight of a child took hold of the skin UNDER MY ARM. You know the place, where triceps are supposed to be. The dangling place. The place that has names I shall not refer to as to not offend. That place. She squeezed it, and then she jiggled it. With her sweet little fingers, she jiggled my arm like it was JELLO.
Let’s take a moment.
Okay, so she did that, and I said, “Could you please not do that?”
She grinned and took her hand away from the place, and we moved on.
So here’s the thing: my bits are changing.
I’m growing out my gray hair (which, by the way, I reserve the right to change my mind about at any moment), and I’m realizing that I’m going to have to make peace with the thigh dimples because I have no Jillian Michaels abilities in me — at all. I called to cancel my gym membership, and the lady was all, “You’ve only been a member three months.”
Nice try shaming me, lady. I LIFTED TWENTY-POUND WEIGHTS AND MAYBE SPRAINED MY WRIST IN THE PROCESS. I’m on medical leave.
The dimples aren’t going anywhere.
My wrist hurts from lifting a dumbbell (Lord, help me).
I’m not going to starve myself (Goodbye, metabolism).
And while I’m watching my sugar intake and eating more smoothies and salads, there are times I just want some wings and beer in bed with my husband.
Here’s the point: It’s okay to age.
And if we could all just be okay with this aging thing, I could be okay with this aging thing.
I always said I wanted to age with grace, but that’s easy to say when you’re young and you think you don’t start aging until you’re sixty. You don’t think you’re going to be plucking chin hairs and seeing a stylist every two months in your mid-thirties. You think that pizza and crab dip is no thing because you’ll just lay off the next day. You don’t know that when you lose weight you’ll gain more back because your body doesn’t care about what you think.
It’s time to make peace with ourselves and our bodies and, really, our inner person.
Pluck the chin hairs, dye your hair, eat kale if that’s what you want to do, but remember this: it’s your inner person that God wants to develop, mature, and make holy, and from that inner person comes all the outer stuff.
How do we make peace with the inner person? We get real vulnerable and lay it all bare before the Lord, saying, “Search me, O God, and know me” (Psalm 139:23).
We let Him see the inner places that He already sees and invite Him in. We align with Him in doing the work in us.
That inner-person work is the good stuff, where our identity is formed and cemented, and we learn to trust God with all of it, especially our fears — our fears of people judging our looks, our fears of people not taking us seriously, our fears of being unwanted.
All of them, whatever they are — He already knows them and here’s the thing: He loves us. He takes us seriously. He doesn’t judge our looks. He wants us.
It’s okay to have dimply thighs and gray hair and jiggly underarms. Life is so much more than the effort we spend trying to look good for fear of what people will think of us.
Maybe for you, it’s time to hand those fears over to God and let Him tell you who you are. Maybe you need to know it’s okay if you dye your hair, and it’s okay if you don’t. No rule there. But either way, you are loved, you are seen, and you are wanted.
Let it be enough.
Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
1 Peter 3:3-4 (NIV)
It's okay to age. Life is so much more than the effort we spend trying to look good for fear of what people will think of us. -@sarahmae: Click To Tweet