_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ MY HUSBAND DOESN’T NEED TO SEE YOUR BOOBS
I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe I used the word boobs in the title of this post.
I got enough purity lessons in high school to invoke a gag reflex any time I heard the word modesty. I remember wanting to crawl out of my skin when my Bible school teachers discussed appropriate *touching*. Ugh, that still makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.
Growing up, my father carefully examined everything I wore out of the house. There was a stack of clothes in his closet that I was never allowed to wear, even if I had just ripped the $54.99 tag off. If it was too short, too tight, too low-cut, or too anything, it went in the pile in his closet.
Once I came home with this beautiful pair of khaki-colored stretch pants. The making of such a thing should be a sin to begin with, but I loved them all the same. I wore them out of the house one time, felt super hott {yes, with two ts} and into Dad’s closet they went.
Being the insightful teenager I was, I decided my father clearly didn’t want me to be happy. So I snuck into his closet, grabbed the pants, and double layered them with jeans on top. Once at school, I went into the bathroom and shed the outer layer, leaving my khaki stretch pants and all my glory to be seen.
On the way to my first class, after three Dang, girl! comments from {ahem} fine, upstanding young men, I realized why Dad had hidden those suckers away.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever confessed this to him. Hey, Daddy—ummm, sorry.
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I’m not writing to tell all the teenage girls to respect their bodies. It’s a must, but plenty of people are saying that.
I’m not writing to chastise you for posting your bikini pics from your lake outing. I suppose we all have enough criticism via blog spaces.
But I am writing to share the perspective of a woman who is fighting for her marriage. And for that reason, I want to tell you that I don’t need my husband to see your boobs.
If I was skinny with rock-hard abs and legs from here to Mexico, I’d want to take lots of pictures of myself. Mostly naked. I would want to post them with a nice filter on Instagram, and share them with whoever might see.
By the grace of God I’m forever bound to the granny tankini with a built-in skirt. File that away with #thingsIneverthoughtI’dsay.
Anyways, what I’m saying is I don’t fault you. I don’t blame you for being confident enough to let the world see how good you look in front of the waves with your coozie and ballcap and barely anything else.
But I want to tell you that it’s a stumbling block in our marriage.
When I scroll through my news feed, my thumb moves in a continuous circular motion until something catches my eye and I want to look closer. And then I tap on the picture and make that little swipe with my thumb and pointer finger so I can zoom in just as close as I can to capture all the details.
I’m especially bad about this when there is a line of bathing suits in the pic. AND I’M A GIRL.
Mostly I’m looking at your legs asking myself, How are there seriously people without cellulite?
And then I continue scrolling through my feed until something else seems interesting.
I doubt my husband is so lucky. Actually, I know it’s next to impossible to take in images like those and erase them from his mind. Because our men are much less emotional and are much more visual. And as quickly as I can forget your picture, it is filed away in his mind, ready to be pulled back out whenever he so chooses.
Again, I am not faulting you. And by no means am I faulting him. This man of mine diverts his eyes from whatever questionable images flash on the screen before him. But sometimes the temptation is too much.
After Memorial Day, I noticed so much skin on social media that I half-yelled a warning to him as I ran out the door one morning. It’s summertime, honey! Beware the beach pics and half nude girls on Instagram! And like that, he was in solitary confinement from all virtual community for the next two days.
Protecting his eyes, protecting his heart.
I know you don’t mean anything by it. But I need to share one more thing with you.
When your bare shoulders and stretchmark-less bellies and tanned legs pop up, I not only worry if my husband will linger over your picture. I worry how he will compare me to you.
As I wrap myself into his arms at night, I wonder if he is seeing you there instead of my mess of a body left over from pregnancy. I wonder if he thinks I’m lazy and that I don’t take good care of myself. I wonder if he wishes I looked more like you than who I really am.
And then the insecurity monster comes back to bite at our relationship again…me, begging for affirmation, and him tiring from saying the same thing over and over.
So, I get it. You’re on vacation and you want people to know. You’re hanging out with your girlfriends and want to remember the moment. You had so much fun at the lake and you love your new *modest* bathing suit.
Can I say it one more time? I’m not judging you.
But would you, could you, keep your boobs out of my marriage? You can have your memories, and we can have our sacred hearts. And we can all get along in beautiful harmony.
Thanks, love. I think we’ll all be better for it.
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This comment space has quickly become source of debate, hatred, and discouragement. Somehow people missed the part where I said this is a *perspective* and not the Bible. I never suggested my husband isn’t responsible for his own eyes and heart {actually, I said he works his butt off to protect those} and I agree that us women are not in control of any man’s thoughts. All I’m saying is we can make it easier for them. As much as I {uh, appreciate?} your suggestions that I go to marriage counseling or hit the gym, can we stick to the subject and use words that edify? You are just ever-so-loving.
Post by mrsukyankee on Jun 12, 2014 16:14:17 GMT -5
I feel sorry for her. And yes, a therapist would be great. And if her husband looking at pictures is truly a problem in their marriage, there are probably other things going wrong as well. I point out the hot girls to my DH. They are hot!
All I’m saying is we can make it easier for them. As much as I {uh, appreciate?} your suggestions that I go to marriage counseling or hit the gym, can we stick to the subject and use words that edify? You are just ever-so-loving.
So the point is that her DH makes a point to divert his eyes and therefore "we all" need to make it easier on him?
Post by PinkSquirrel on Jun 12, 2014 16:19:13 GMT -5
I doubt my husband is so lucky. Actually, I know it’s next to impossible to take in images like those and erase them from his mind. Because our men are much less emotional and are much more visual. And as quickly as I can forget your picture, it is filed away in his mind, ready to be pulled back out whenever he so chooses.
I have a vagina and a spank bank and somehow I manage FB just fine.
I half-yelled a warning to him as I ran out the door one morning. It’s summertime, honey! Beware the beach pics and half nude girls on Instagram! And like that, he was in solitary confinement from all virtual community for the next two days.
Protecting his eyes, protecting his heart.
What does this even mean? so, she THINKS he didn't go online for 2 days because she warned him about all the pictures?
This is LOL ridiculous. And then "protecting his eyes".
I want to know what has gone on in their marriage up until now. This is so weird.
Post by Wrath0fKuus on Jun 12, 2014 16:48:10 GMT -5
Okay, look, I get where she's coming from. She's in thrall to Beauty Myth thinking, to the point where she has never questioned it. But if she's old enough to be married, she's old enough to start questioning this shit.
Have any of the commenters suggested some Naomi Wolf to her?
Post by andrealynn on Jun 12, 2014 16:53:57 GMT -5
I tried to formulate some kind of "real" response to this and IJC. I really hope this is some sort of Matt Walsh-esque poorly done click-bait, because if she has a point, I couldn't see it between my constant eye rolls.
Okay, look, I get where she's coming from. She's in thrall to Beauty Myth thinking, to the point where she has never questioned it. But if she's old enough to be married, she's old enough to start questioning this shit.
Have any of the commenters suggested some Naomi Wolf to her?
Post by Daria Morgandorffer on Jun 12, 2014 17:03:58 GMT -5
This commenter really ices the cake for me
"Your cellulite? Yeah, instead of spending hours at the gym, you chose to dedicate that time to reading your child an extra story or spend extra time snuggling with your husband. That cellulite is testimony to your dedication to your family."
"Your cellulite? Yeah, instead of spending hours at the gym, you chose to dedicate that time to reading your child an extra story or spend extra time snuggling with your husband. That cellulite is testimony to your dedication to your family."
My cellulite is testimony to my dedication to ALWAYS getting extra cheese.