Butt for the Grace of God

"But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect." (I Cor. 15:12 NIV)

I am what I consider to be a Career Dieter. Over the course of the past 30 years, I have tried just about every fad diet and several legitimate weight loss programs known to man (and woman). During those years I have lost about 350 pounds. Startling, I know. That weight loss is not a result of being morbidly obese. No, I'm a fairly "normal" size, middle-age woman. That weight loss is a direct result of yo-yo dieting. I have lost and gained the same 30 pounds at least 10 or more times over the last three decades. I've also owned just about every piece of exercise equipment available on the open market hoping to sculpt those buns of steel, yet I've never actually achieved steel bun success. I struggle daily with weight issues.

Even at my ideal weight, (which I only achieved for a total of two days in my entire life. Once in 1976 and once again in 1987), I've never been satisfied with my bottom half. I have legs like tree stumps and I'm convinced I'm the first person to sport "saddle bag thighs." Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but I'm a writer - that's what we do! I'm firmly convinced however, the mirrors installed in any clothing/department store fitting room are really the same mirrors used in carnival fun houses. Rarely have I had the occasion to try on a pair of jeans and been totally satisfied with the way my backside looks. It always looks somewhat distorted and slightly magnified - usually times three, since most stores have that triple mirror thing going so you can see what you're trying on from every possible angle. Yuck! I stand there conversing with myself, "Is my butt really that big? Dear Lord, when did that happen? I'm convinced my behind is the size of Nebraska. (Okay - maybe not the whole state, just a small rural township.) In reality it's more in the normal to slightly above average category. It's a genetic thing. I swam in the wrong gene pool consisting of a long line of round, Sicilian woman. I was doomed from the womb?

Why are we a generation of people (not just women, either) so consumed with the size of our butts? The age old question has always been, "Does my butt look fat in this?" I tell myself that if I spent half as much time studying the Word of God or praying for others, I would be eligible for sainthood. Logically, I know that God loves me regardless of the size of my butt. He doesn't love me less based on the amount of jiggle hanging from my underarms. And He certainly wouldn't stop caring about me if my waistline was proportionate to the circumference of say a Beluga Whale. So why do I beat myself up if my butt looks larger than normal in a pair of jeans? Why am I so obsessed? I hope I'm not the only person whose tried to find the answer to this dilemma. As a Christian I know I shouldn't fixate on the external, but as a woman, that's easier said than done! I live in a body of flesh who wants to look like the women I see on TV, even though I know that's unrealistic.

For today, I will remind myself of the words found in 1 Samuel 16:7 that reads: "Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."

Please Lord, help me to remember that when I shop for new jeans this week. It's not the size of my buttocks that really matters to you, but the size of my heart! And I really want a heart the size of Nebraska! Amen.