By Kristi Tisor Ambriz
Jeans shopping.
I gave those two words their own paragraph for dramatic appeal. If they made you shiver, you get me.
Two of my daughters and I took advantage of the after-Christmas sales. I was looking for new boots, a new purse...and jeans. Suffice it to say, the boot and purse shopping part of this plan was beautiful, and wonderful, and pleasant, and very easy for me to dive into. The jeans part, not so much.
There are few things I hate worse than looking for, and especially trying on, new jeans. Just ask my closet, and the very old, very worn jeans limply draped over their hangers, needing replacement.
I just never know for sure what size to grab off the rack. I know what size I wear...but that means little, when it comes to jeans, I find.
So, I don't shop in the Juniors Department--I don't have the body of a 14 year-old. I shop in the department that houses sensible cuts. Curvy cuts. Cuts that work on bodies who have had babies--two of whom weighed over 10-pounds at birth. So, seriously. What's with the straight cut in my department? Straight from the waist, down to the ankle? I passed that rack, and all of the other racks holding that cut. I was zeroing in on the jeans with the woven-in springy fabric that will bounce back to my suck in position when I stand up, after being stretched out in the exhale and let it out position when I'm sitting.
I get it that trying them on is necessary. We have to make sure we enhance what we want enhanced, and hide what we want hidden. Every pair of jeans is different that way. But, what gets me is how the sizes are so inconsistent. If I wear a size 4 (I don't), I should be able to grab several size 4s and try them on for size, or better said, for fit. But it just isn't that easy. I have to get 2s, 4s, and 6s. And I could go home with any one of those sizes, or none of them.
In my mind, my size is my size. I wear what I wear, and I categorize myself as that size. My name is Kristi, and I'm (not) a size 4. Simple, right? If only.
Makes me think of real life. I'm a dedicated mom, and am passionate about raising my children right, so a mom should look, and behave, and be a certain way to accomplish the mission of child rearing well. But if in my mind being a good mom means that the mom stays home full-time and takes care of her home and family, how do I process the other moms out there who work outside the home? Wonderful, capable moms who love their families and homes no less, and balance it all so well? Women like my own mom. Nobody is more efficient--the woman's a machine. Or my friend Kelly--she is an attorney, and has 2 of the cutest, well-rounded and accomplished little boys on the planet, has a beautiful home, and a wonderful life.
What about being a divorcee? Isn't that one size fits all? Am I not I supposed to hate my ex-husband, talk to him through gritted teeth, and smh at everything he says and does? If so, I blew that size out of the closet. We get along great. It's taken no small amount of working through past pain, huge amounts of willful forgiveness, and a legitimate effort in truly understanding him--and all of that hard work is paying off. Imagine how cool it was for Lee, at his 8th birthday party, to have his dad in our house mingling with friends and family, and serving the cakes and cookies he specially prepared for the event.
What about faith? Isn't the practice of Christianity a black and white affair? Hardly. We believe strongly in baptism by full immersion, or we believe strongly that it is to be accomplished by the sprinkling of water on the head. We believe the pastor is to wear a long, stiff robe, or we believe the pastor should wear an untucked shirt, jeans and flip flops. Hymns or praise songs, organ or drums. Each side is sure that their side is right.
Life is sticky sometimes. And it's in the middle of my own sticky life that I continue to redefine who I am, what my family looks like, and how I worship at church. My personal life turned completely upside down, and fully inside out. I once lived in a place where my neighbor introduced himself while on horseback as he checked his bulls that he kept in the corral on the 640 acres we lived on. I now live in Los Angeles County, have a view of palm trees out of every window, and I get myself to Downtown LA every chance I get for theatre, art shows, or music.
Same me. Different size.
No, different me. My internal outlook is as different as my physical outlook. On the outside I don't see the Nebraska Prairie anymore--I see the Downtown LA skyline. And on the inside I experience grace, and compassion, and balance...all of which were challenged in my life before. Especially when it came to my view of others who were different. A different size, so to speak. Not literally, of course, but sized differently from what I knew to be right.
My view before included stupid things like: Drug Addicts are losers. Alcoholics are losers. Divorced couples are losers. Kids who act out, have parents who are losers. If they aren't like me, they're those people. Losers.
I have spent so much of my life comparing myself to others and feeling self-righteous. Likewise, I've spent a lot of my life comparing myself to others and hoping for something that they have--something better. Thinking that I don't measure up because I don't have or do A, B or C, while looking at the lives of other people with X, Y or Z, shaking my head, and thinking that they just didn't get it right.
It took dramatic courses of events to shake me out of my mindset. To open my eyes, and give me a real view of people, and life. For this reason alone, I am forever grateful for every bad thing I endured in my heartbreak, if it brought me to a better place. I get it now, and I am so thankful.
Our lives are as individually sized as those jeans in my fitting room. Confusing? Of course. But accepting it, paying attention to it, and making the effort to really get it, is worth the work. The result is peace. Peace within myself, and peace with others. True peace I can comfortably ease into, like a good pair of well-fitting jeans.
So which jeans did I end up with? None. I got a purse. One size fits all. Sometimes I have to balance simplicity with all of the complexities of life. But, I won't shy away from the hard work forever. I need new jeans, badly. But, maybe after I work off the See's Candy.
So, I don't shop in the Juniors Department--I don't have the body of a 14 year-old. I shop in the department that houses sensible cuts. Curvy cuts. Cuts that work on bodies who have had babies--two of whom weighed over 10-pounds at birth. So, seriously. What's with the straight cut in my department? Straight from the waist, down to the ankle? I passed that rack, and all of the other racks holding that cut. I was zeroing in on the jeans with the woven-in springy fabric that will bounce back to my suck in position when I stand up, after being stretched out in the exhale and let it out position when I'm sitting.
I get it that trying them on is necessary. We have to make sure we enhance what we want enhanced, and hide what we want hidden. Every pair of jeans is different that way. But, what gets me is how the sizes are so inconsistent. If I wear a size 4 (I don't), I should be able to grab several size 4s and try them on for size, or better said, for fit. But it just isn't that easy. I have to get 2s, 4s, and 6s. And I could go home with any one of those sizes, or none of them.
In my mind, my size is my size. I wear what I wear, and I categorize myself as that size. My name is Kristi, and I'm (not) a size 4. Simple, right? If only.
Makes me think of real life. I'm a dedicated mom, and am passionate about raising my children right, so a mom should look, and behave, and be a certain way to accomplish the mission of child rearing well. But if in my mind being a good mom means that the mom stays home full-time and takes care of her home and family, how do I process the other moms out there who work outside the home? Wonderful, capable moms who love their families and homes no less, and balance it all so well? Women like my own mom. Nobody is more efficient--the woman's a machine. Or my friend Kelly--she is an attorney, and has 2 of the cutest, well-rounded and accomplished little boys on the planet, has a beautiful home, and a wonderful life.
What about being a divorcee? Isn't that one size fits all? Am I not I supposed to hate my ex-husband, talk to him through gritted teeth, and smh at everything he says and does? If so, I blew that size out of the closet. We get along great. It's taken no small amount of working through past pain, huge amounts of willful forgiveness, and a legitimate effort in truly understanding him--and all of that hard work is paying off. Imagine how cool it was for Lee, at his 8th birthday party, to have his dad in our house mingling with friends and family, and serving the cakes and cookies he specially prepared for the event.
What about faith? Isn't the practice of Christianity a black and white affair? Hardly. We believe strongly in baptism by full immersion, or we believe strongly that it is to be accomplished by the sprinkling of water on the head. We believe the pastor is to wear a long, stiff robe, or we believe the pastor should wear an untucked shirt, jeans and flip flops. Hymns or praise songs, organ or drums. Each side is sure that their side is right.
Life is sticky sometimes. And it's in the middle of my own sticky life that I continue to redefine who I am, what my family looks like, and how I worship at church. My personal life turned completely upside down, and fully inside out. I once lived in a place where my neighbor introduced himself while on horseback as he checked his bulls that he kept in the corral on the 640 acres we lived on. I now live in Los Angeles County, have a view of palm trees out of every window, and I get myself to Downtown LA every chance I get for theatre, art shows, or music.
Same me. Different size.
No, different me. My internal outlook is as different as my physical outlook. On the outside I don't see the Nebraska Prairie anymore--I see the Downtown LA skyline. And on the inside I experience grace, and compassion, and balance...all of which were challenged in my life before. Especially when it came to my view of others who were different. A different size, so to speak. Not literally, of course, but sized differently from what I knew to be right.
My view before included stupid things like: Drug Addicts are losers. Alcoholics are losers. Divorced couples are losers. Kids who act out, have parents who are losers. If they aren't like me, they're those people. Losers.
I have spent so much of my life comparing myself to others and feeling self-righteous. Likewise, I've spent a lot of my life comparing myself to others and hoping for something that they have--something better. Thinking that I don't measure up because I don't have or do A, B or C, while looking at the lives of other people with X, Y or Z, shaking my head, and thinking that they just didn't get it right.
It took dramatic courses of events to shake me out of my mindset. To open my eyes, and give me a real view of people, and life. For this reason alone, I am forever grateful for every bad thing I endured in my heartbreak, if it brought me to a better place. I get it now, and I am so thankful.
Our lives are as individually sized as those jeans in my fitting room. Confusing? Of course. But accepting it, paying attention to it, and making the effort to really get it, is worth the work. The result is peace. Peace within myself, and peace with others. True peace I can comfortably ease into, like a good pair of well-fitting jeans.
So which jeans did I end up with? None. I got a purse. One size fits all. Sometimes I have to balance simplicity with all of the complexities of life. But, I won't shy away from the hard work forever. I need new jeans, badly. But, maybe after I work off the See's Candy.
No comments:
Post a Comment