Guest Blogger: Love Notes from the Fickle Monster, Part 11

When we were young, insecurity was a stranger.

We wore our boxes and bows proudly.

We frolicked in our leotards publicly.

We ate cake, eyes closed, fearlessly.

We rocked puffy sleeves happily.

We rode tricycles, handlebars in reverse, tirelessly.

We weren't afraid of the kitchen; it was afraid of us.



And then something happened, things changed. The words fat and ugly and pretty and skinny were defined, and all of a sudden, we became painfully aware of our thighs rubbing together. Something destructive and mean and merciless barreled into our lives and altered everything.

Doubt crept in to my life when I was ten years old.

As a 5th grader, I went to the skate rink on Friday nights. I always roller bladed; I had my own pair, really rad. (See that little girl up there in the gigantic roller blades with the booty, that's me a couple of years before the fifth grade!) Just so you folks know, skate night was awesome. I dominated the floor because I was quick and could limbo like a champ in my blades. Everything was fun until the final song of the evening which was usually something outrageously romantic like "Killing Me Softly." 

At this point, every skater chose a partner, took hands, and rolled in tandem to the soft glow cast by gigantic mirror ball. Gag. If one wanted to continue to skate and was partnerless, he or she would have to skate backwards through the entire song which is what I did, every Friday night.  I did not scan the crowd for a potential partner or wait for a boy to ask. As soon as they announced final skate, I flipped myself around. No hesitation. Boys wanted to skate with girls like Jamie Meadows and Kate Burns. I was Cora Flottman, a frizzy headed chunk-monster, and no boy would want to take my hand. Before I would allow myself to be dissapointed by my constructed truth, I turned around and got to it, skating backwards, quietly believing I would never be pretty enough, thin enough...enough to be spoken for.

Hindsight allows me to see this event clearly. I might have been enough for one little boy, but I doubted, the reality ruined.

It probably did not help that I was ALWAYS the biggest and tallest girl among my peers as a youngster (yea, I said youngster, no shame). Look for me in these pictures, I stand out. 

I'm smack dab in the middle of that picture which documents the unfortunate nature of cumberbuns and fifth grade choirdom. I had so many things to be proud of on that day, but I felt like a huge ogre. How sad to only remember the doubt.

 

Doubt does a funny thing to his victims.
He creeps in, quietly, and whispers, "Quit dreaming, believing, longing."
Doubt finds his victims weakest joint and severs it.
Doubt packs his victims bags and sends them in another direction.
He is a bully. He is rude. He is calloused.
Doubt obstructs truth. Doubt buries hope. Doubt destroys love.

Many days, most days, I let Doubt in, welcome him. Perhaps he doesn't even need to visit any more, I have simply adopted his attitude; I am a disciple of Doubt. You see, I am well rehearsed in the ways of a doubter. I think a man will not love me enough to adventure into life beside me. I suppose I will not continue to lose weight because I have plateaued and even gained weight over the past month. I may never embark on a real career. I do not mean to appear overly pessimistic here, but allow me the opportunity to be honest.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but we all doubt, right? Am I the only one?

My precious pastor talked about doubt this Sunday. Let me just transfer a little of his truth (this is not verbatim as he delivered it; I've altered it through my interpretation).

Jesus said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."

BELIEVE.
STOP DOUBTING. BELIEVE.
Whatever your issues are, stop. Lay down doubt, burn doubt, reject doubt. Do this in four ways:

1. Stop listening to lies.
2. Testify, rejoice about what God has already done through you, in you, and for you.
3. STOP COMPARING!
4. Fill yourself with God's voice.

STOP DOUBTING.
BELIEVE. BELIEVE.

How about we all try to apply the Big 4 and watch Doubt shrink away, cower, flee, dissolve? Even when we don't feel strong enough, and even when we don't really believe, could we give it a shot? There is nothing to lose except for the shit Doubt tries to dump in our lives.

So...to all the girls skating backwards on a disco ball lit skate rink, this one is for you.
Rise up.
To all the girls who stare in the mirror watch tears pour, never ceasing, this one if for you.
Stop doubting.
To all the girls who still feel their thighs rub together, this one is for you.
Believe.
To all the girls with empty hands, this one is for you.
Believe.

I beg you, believe with me.

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Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend, college room8 and a complete inspiration to Sheila.

She is an actress, teacher, christian, lover of the written word and men who can change the tires on a car.

She blogs here every Friday.