I see the soft capes draped over the models. They look perfect for our mild winter temps in South Florida. But I know what they’ll look like on me. Or, rather, what I’ll look like with them draped over my 5’4” frame.
The same can be said for some cuts of jeans or the trendy untucked shirts. I’m not the 111 pounds I was at 18 and 20 extra pounds make a huge difference on the hips of a borderline petite person. I will look squatty and feel dumpy.
Sometimes I will buy the shirt anyway. I will convince myself it’s only my eyes that see this, and that may be so. But one day, I’ll put it on and what looked good in the dressing room looks bulky and frumpy now.
Up and down I go, trying to hold on to things no longer there: youth.
When I fit into the demographic called young, I knew my purpose and felt sure of it. I was confident in mothering. I was sure of my place in the church as a respected and valued leader. I considered it a privilege to be counted on to shuttle our kids classes on field trips and to sports games.
I knew what was ahead. Most of the time. There was a certainty to life.
And then I blinked.
I wonder if this is how Rip Van Winkle felt when he woke from his years of sleeping. I’ve wakened to a time of unknowing and uncertainty. Mothering has changed and become more difficult as I’m not always certain when, or how, I’m needed. (The double edge of raising good, able, smart adults.)
Retirement is coming is now weeks away and what started as a fun thought is fraught with fear and uncertainty.
My youth is gone but not my life. There is more, much more to come. But I’m not the same size and I’m not sure what fits?
I’m back in the dressing room realizing the low rise jeans aren’t working anymore nor is the size 6. Do I really HAVE to shop in the women’s department? Am I relegated to Ann Taylor or Chico’s? No offense but they aren’t my style.
That’s how life feels these days. I appreciate today’s technology and not having to worry about long distance charges to talk to friends and family on the phone. I try to stay current with culture and trends. I’m just not sure I fit into any of it.
Perhaps the best thing this part of life offers is there isn’t a one-size-fits-all pattern. It’s going to be custom made, one of a kind, for me.
“You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something.” Psalm 139:13-16 Message
4 thoughts on “In the Changing Room”
My word for this year is uncertainty. I thought it strange when I first thought about it. But it has grown on me and I’m ok with it. Uncertainty is not bad place to be. Not an easy place either yet it has not heft me stranded either. I’m such a planner and this year I’ve learned to be more of a truster.
Wow, that’s a big word for the year, Sandy. It’s a brave word. No, it’s not a bad place to be but for me I can only survive there if I’m surrounded by caring friends. Writing helps too 😉 Thanks for sharing that. I relate!
You’ve got a beautiful family, friend … may you find their steady companionship give you stability and joy during this transition time …
Thank you, Linda. It’s hard to lean on your kids when you rather them lean on you. But we’ve been blessed with caring family and friends that give me balance when I start to wobble. xx