Years ago I had a dream. In the dream I was standing with a dark-skinned man before a park bench on a sunny day. Under the bench were a neatly-folded blanket, a book, a bowl, and a spoon. He pointed to the items and said, calmly, “Everything I own is under that bench.” I looked again and felt a pang of longing. Someday, I promised myself, that will be all I have left also.
But not yet!
Our footprint has shrunk considerably since I retired and moved into a barely over 1100 square foot double-wide. My Beloved still lives in Albuquerque, so it’s true we still support two houses, but only because he is still working. When he retires we will surrender the rental there and live only here. He likes shopping more than I do and I remind him that we have everything we need here already. There is no need to buy more. And I think of my dream.
There is one place where I have to climb down off my righteous perch, however, because of the volume of the voice that tells me why I should purchase what I see on my Amazon page: beautiful, flowy summer dresses or skirts. Here I should confess I have a true love for beautiful fabrics. I am, after all, a weaver, whose motto is “Beauty is not optional.” And so beautiful prints, flowy textiles, exotic weaves, thrill my soul.
I am tempted to buy these not because I need them, however. I have four in my summer box waiting to be transferred to hangers. OK, five. I could wear a different dress five days in a row! There is no need for more. No, that is not why I am tempted.
The reason they call to me is because when I wear something like that I feel as close to beautiful as I ever get. I was a nun for six years and love the feel of fabric swishing around my legs. I grew up in Indonesia and have great admiration for the intricacies of batik. When I wear flowy clothing, nothing pulls at my hips, or waist, or belly. I feel exotic and free, a bird landed but which could take off again into the skies any time I pleased. Having struggled with body image for so many years, I wish I could live into a permanent contentment with this amazing body that has carried me closer to 68 years than 67. I wish giving compliments was part of my husband’s love language. (It might be if he knew what an aphrodisiac the word “beautiful” can be, but he does not ever remember.) So I need to tell myself.
The line feels more real if I am wearing flowy clothing. But it’s not urgent enough to actually break down and buy them. There is, after all, that park bench waiting for me.
— Canyonwoman
But not yet!
Our footprint has shrunk considerably since I retired and moved into a barely over 1100 square foot double-wide. My Beloved still lives in Albuquerque, so it’s true we still support two houses, but only because he is still working. When he retires we will surrender the rental there and live only here. He likes shopping more than I do and I remind him that we have everything we need here already. There is no need to buy more. And I think of my dream.
There is one place where I have to climb down off my righteous perch, however, because of the volume of the voice that tells me why I should purchase what I see on my Amazon page: beautiful, flowy summer dresses or skirts. Here I should confess I have a true love for beautiful fabrics. I am, after all, a weaver, whose motto is “Beauty is not optional.” And so beautiful prints, flowy textiles, exotic weaves, thrill my soul.
I am tempted to buy these not because I need them, however. I have four in my summer box waiting to be transferred to hangers. OK, five. I could wear a different dress five days in a row! There is no need for more. No, that is not why I am tempted.
The reason they call to me is because when I wear something like that I feel as close to beautiful as I ever get. I was a nun for six years and love the feel of fabric swishing around my legs. I grew up in Indonesia and have great admiration for the intricacies of batik. When I wear flowy clothing, nothing pulls at my hips, or waist, or belly. I feel exotic and free, a bird landed but which could take off again into the skies any time I pleased. Having struggled with body image for so many years, I wish I could live into a permanent contentment with this amazing body that has carried me closer to 68 years than 67. I wish giving compliments was part of my husband’s love language. (It might be if he knew what an aphrodisiac the word “beautiful” can be, but he does not ever remember.) So I need to tell myself.
The line feels more real if I am wearing flowy clothing. But it’s not urgent enough to actually break down and buy them. There is, after all, that park bench waiting for me.
— Canyonwoman
I love the way you connected the flow of nun’s clothing to flowing dresses. Beautiful imagery as always. Husbands just assume we know we’re beautiful. At least that’s what I learned after 50 plus years of marriage.
ReplyDelete50+ years?? Wow. I bow to you. Marriage can be so hard, and I have a truly splendid husband. We are about to hit 39, but we started late. "Husbands just assume we know we're beautiful." I hope I learn that by the time we hit 50 years! Thanks, Mugsy. (PS. I am already grieving the loss of you in three days.) cw
DeleteI love learning about this "flowy temptation"! I hope your husband is reading this!
ReplyDeleteImages like the "volume of the voice," and the "flowy textiles" and "exotic weaves" thrilling your soul stick with me; and I, too, have a partner not in the habit of compliments.
ReplyDeleteThat comment came from Beth
ReplyDeleteI actually did read this to him. I am learning to ask for what I did. Of course - if I ask for a compliment and then he gives it, he still loses points! cw
DeleteThat should have been "I am learning to ask for what I NEED...." Someday I'll learn to proof BEFORE pushing "Publish!"
Delete