Bits and Pieces (or How Dancing Changes Perspective)

There are moments in my life in which past, present, and future converge. I had a recent experience with that at a dance.

Looking at the past, I've had some common experiences with most people who are overweight. In one way or another, words, actions, and events stole bits and pieces of my soul. People who wrestle with their weight know what I mean: being chosen last for a softball game as a kid, having trouble getting off the couch, people interacting with you and speaking of you differently because of how you look, having to make different vacation choices and plans because there are things you simply can't do. Because of the eating decisions you made, often in response to things that were far, far worse than was apparent on the outside.

I recently went to a dance where suddenly, a lot of things changed. As I was checking in for the dance, the woman running the event looked me over from head to toe. This has not been a common experience in my life, and for a moment I even wondered what it meant. Next up were the comments from the other women at the dance. Complete strangers came up to me to compliment the red dress I was wearing and to ask me where I got my dancing shoes. I even had one woman in the bathroom comment on my hair clip. Apart from the dress, these were all items I had worn before, but not with that reaction. And, as I noted the accumulating compliments, I felt some of the little bits and pieces of my soul coming back to me.

Then, there was the interaction with the men in the room. A dance instructor asked me to dance. As the music started, I knew it was a style of dance I had done before, but I couldn't quite remember the name. As we started, I realized it was a Meringue, and we had danced this one time months before, as I was just beginning to learn Latin dance styles. I remembered it well enough (and moved well enough), that he did a lot of more complicated moves than the last time we had danced. I was successfully able to follow his lead and execute the more difficult moves. And I felt just a little bit more accomplished than I had before.

There was someone at the dance whom I had known for the better part of 25 years. As teenagers, we had been in school together. At the time, he was considered the cat's meow by the other girls in high school. I thought he was a bit full of himself at the time, but by paying dues he's turned out to be a very fine man now. He asked me to dance. When we were done, another friend commented, "that looked like fun."

The thing is, he would never have asked me to dance back then (or rather, in fact, he never did, though we attended many of the same dances). And, after the dance, he reminisced about how long we had know each other. Inside my head, I realized that, at the age of 37, I am actually in better shape and stronger than I was as a teenager. In all that time, I had never been so physically strong or fit as I am now. And, I felt another piece of my soul restored not because he had danced with me, but because I had accomplished so much.

Apart from a few key close friends, I have historically not worried about what other people thought of me. It is a failing, I think, common to being overweight, and a matter of self-defense. You stop worrying about what you feel you cannot change (your weight) and focus on more ethereal goals (being good, friendly, educated, etc.) instead of taking control of what's actually bothering you and making the changes you can. And there is a tendency to criticize those who respond to you differently because of what you look like.

I still firmly believe that what is on the inside is far more important than anything else. I have no patience for the "attractive" people who are full of themselves and treat others badly. I don't consider that attractive in any way, and I think those people wind up very lonely in the final estimation. And that is just as sad as the person who is overlooked because they are overweight.

On the other hand, I had to learn several years ago that it was ok to also focus on the outside (like wearing makeup) and that was not being false to what is on the inside. I am learning that lesson again, and on a deeper level, as I reclaim what was meant to be mine--being healthy, strong, attractive, and the woman God always intended me to be.

So, here is my call, at the start of Lent to myself and anyone who takes the time to read this:

1. Make the inside even more beautiful by growing closer to God.

2. Embrace making the outside just as beautiful as the inside because it is good for you, it is a greater manifestation of God's glory, and it removes a barrier between you and others you can influence.

And may the bits and pieces of our souls continue to be healed from whatever sin and damage has brought us to where we are now.