My Body In Pieces
Tags: Mormon, Exmormon, Body Positive, Body Image, Mental Health Awareness

I’m 9 years old, and we’re at JC Penny shopping for school. My mom looks at the new overalls I’ve just tried on.

“Turn around, let me see the back.”

Obediently I turn and then bend to touch my toes as she instructs. Waiting for the verdict.

She sucks breath in through her teeth, and I know the answer. I gaze sadly at the embroidered pattern — colorful, whimsical, and not going to be mine.

“They’re just too tight around the back. Too short. Let’s see the next one!”

My mom doesn’t mean to be insensitive or imply that I’m a sexual object at 9 years old. But she does. Because that’s the culture we’re in.

Shopping for a swimming suit at 12 is a lot harder. My breasts have begun to develop and I’ve gained weight — in my tummy, thighs, and hips. I’ve gone through more suits than I can count. All one-pieces because tankinis and bikinis are completely off the table — too immodest.

I put another one on that I like. It’s bright and fun. Before she asks this time, I turn around as she appraises my body.

“It’s just too high on the sides honey. I’m not comfortable with that one.”

Sighing, I turn back to try on another.

As a Mom myself, I can’t blame her for her choices. And I don’t disagree with women who choose to dress conservatively. But I sure as hell disagree with the way I was taught about my body as a result of “modest-is-the-hottest” teachings — from the Mormon church.

As a teen, I loved the look of ripped jeans when they came out. But my hopes for dressing up in a new fashion were dashed when we visited Macy’s that year. I exited the dressing room, feeling particularly confident only to be met with disgust.

“Oh, those aren’t going to work.”

This time I push back, trying to gain some footing. I don’t see what’s wrong with these.

“Please Mom, what’s wrong with these? I checked and they aren’t too tight in the back. I really like them, please.”

Her eyebrows are skyrocketing into her hair, lips pursed tightly. Thinking.

“They just aren’t modest. This isn’t what the Savior would want you wearing. This isn’t respecting your body.”

Returning to the dressing room, I take one last look in the mirror at the small nickel-sized holes near the pockets before I take them off.

Skinny jeans were another no-no. Only flairs or regular fits.

Because if your jeans are too tight, you’re attracting the wrong kind of attention. Or worse, you’re distracting righteous young men — you are becoming pornography.

You don’t want to be pornography, do you?

Modesty Check

Head? No midriff.

Shoulders? Not too tight around the bust.

Knees? The butt better not be too tight.

Toes? No cleavage.

Head, shoulders, knees, and toes.

Because it’s not about your comfort, your style, or your happiness. It’s about your boobs. Thighs. Butt. Midriff. Sex appeal.

Don’t be pornography. Because obviously righteous young Mormon men can’t control their thoughts — it’s up to you to keep them on the straight and narrow. You don’t want to be the cause of their porn addiction.

Because you can be pornography. Your bare shoulders will entice them to sin.

Now, I stand in front of the mirror. 25 years old. Cute summertime outfit for a date with my husband. Comfortable and perfectly my style.

Before I leave, I’m left wondering if it’s normal to see my body in pieces. I look in the mirror and see a little cleavage, bare thighs, naked shoulders, and shorts hugging my curves.

Because I’m not a body. I’m sex appeal. I’m a walking sin for someone else. I’m butt, boobs, and thighs.

That’s why I leave, swaying my hips, feeling the breeze on my thighs and shoulders, and choosing to leave the top button undone. Because I’ll dress for me. That’s who really matters.

In time, I’ll see my body whole — no more pieces.

Just me.