Jennifer, Mom Jeans, and Insecurities

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jmji

My husband’s deepest, funniest secret? He loves People magazine. Yep. Once, his co-workers pooled together and bought him a subscription. Every week it came in our hotter-‘an-heck mail box.

Here’s the problem. I am not Jennifer Anniston.

I’m three years older than the childless Jennifer. My body does NOT look like hers. I’m not tanned in just the right way. My eyes wrinkle when I smile. And I don’t wear the same size I wore when I donned my wedding dress. So there.

My husband thinks I’m beautiful. (It’s hard for me to even type that.) But me? Not so much. I have found poison on the pages of People, a raging discontent that fuels a ridiculous fear. I’m aging. I will no longer be young. I won’t ever be fodder for paparazzi (thankfully).

And yet.

I hate that I can’t be happy with my evolving shape. Just a few decades ago, I’d be considered gawkily scrawny. A few centuries ago, a starved waif. Now? A middle aged housewife. God forbid, I may end up wearing these: Mom Jeans.

Noooooooooooooo! Why do you think I got my nose pierced? Because I couldn’t bring myself to embrace those high-waisted, hiney-elaborating jeans.

So now you know my insecurities. I fret about how I’m aging. How little like Jennifer I look.

I know the Jesusy answer to it all is to embrace my inner mom-jean-self. (Click to tweet) To chat about how content I’ve become, how happy I am that I’m wiser now. And on some days, I am happy and content. But today I pulled on my bikini and had a chat with my tummy. It talked back, and, being more substantial than last year, hollered a little louder. And I lost my contentment. I read People while my belly baked in the sun and squabbled with me.

What does it really matter? I’m not Jennifer. She’s not me. Someday, folks, we’ll all have the best, most amazing bodies that are built for eternity. (Click to tweet) No more sags. No more illness. No more pain. My sincere hope, though I sound schizophrenic to say it, is that my soul shines all the brighter in heaven because I learned to let Jesus beautify my insides here on earth. (Click to tweet)

I have a long way to go. A long way.

So pray for me. And pray for Jennifer too. I wonder if it haunts her that the “thing” that sets her apart in this world will fade away.

Are you battling insecurity? Learn more about my journey in my memoir Thin Places.

Thin Places copy

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