Meet the Author's Author

Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

A Warning for Modesty

WARNING: If you are easily shocked, sensitive in emotions or generally innocent, it is advised that you may not wish to read the following, as it contains traces of adult content. Thank you.



Today's lesson: Dress in a questionable item; get treated like a whore.

This isn't too comfortable to write, but I think it may help prove the point about modesty...even if the subject is myself. It certainly proved it to me.

As stated in the blog I wrote beneath a few weeks ago, I mostly wear mid-calf length skirts, possessing, however, four knee length skirts (I found two more) and several ankle length.

One of my knee length skirts is very pretty. It's a crinkle skirt, black, kind of denimy at the top, with ruffles and flounces on its several panels - ending just below the knee. Apart from its length, it is fairly modest. I've worn it many times before without it having caused acute embarrassment.

Yesterday, I decided to go for a walk around the block with my dog, on my own. Normally my parents flip out at the idea, as we live in a druggie/medium crime rate neighbourhood, but my Mom has a great deal of common sense, and must've decided it was ok, with my being 18 and not everyone walking the street getting mugged. I wanted to walk around, relax in the fresh air (fresh as you can get with exhaust fumes and drug scents), listen to my walkman (MP3) and spend some time praying.

Well, I listened to my Walkman only because it was plugged firmly into one ear. And I did get a few words of prayer out, but it was mostly in fear.

Mom had gone for a sleep (and she'd had to wait til I left the house so she wasn't disturbed). I got halfway down the next street (which takes twenty minutes to walk down), away from His Nastiness and his bull terrier, and realised that the rapidly darkening sky was not just due to the fact that night was drawing in. The wind really - and I mean, REALLY - picked up. Not the hard, single, long blast, but the teasing wind that blows sharp and hard in gusts from all directions.

I grabbed two handfuls of skirt and tried to hold it down, but imagine trying to hold an energetic dog's lead and do that - and walk. I considered going back home to change my skirt, but didn't on three considerations - 1/ that Mom would be annoyed at being woken, and wouldn't sleep properly again, 2/ that I may not even wake her, depending on how asleep she was, and 3/ that I probably wouldn't get my walk in, it getting so dark and all.

I managed one rather frightened hour's walk, hurrying along the street and yanking my poor doggie along whenever the wind dropped, and grabbing handfuls of material and leaning up a wall whenever the wind started to blow. And yes, I imitated the old fashioned hobble skirt, holding it down really tightly and shuffling along the street.

The stares I got were not from the people I would prefer to receive them, nor were they directed at the place where I would like people to look at me. I don't think I've been conscious of having that many stares off guys in my life.

I was walking down the road four streets away (about twenty minutes walk) from home, when these three lads, about 9-10 or so, came walking past. The oldest could have been around twelve. I remember a blurred image of them in my line of vision, so I'm judging size wise, but I do not remember their faces. I should learn to remember faces...

The first comment I heard was, "Ooh, she's sexy!" Which was enough to make my blood curdle, having seen and heard comments like that before. I had headed up the embankment when I'd noticed them behind me, and was waiting for a gap in the traffic to cross the road. Unfortunately, it was a busy main road, so I was there for at least two minutes. I'd got one earpiece in, so I tried to switch them out. But they stopped a little away from me and started calling out...I've never actually been spoken to like that before. Not in public. Not in person. And this is my first time out on my own.

There was a little side road with a wall near to where I was standing, and they turned off down there. And stayed there. Kept coming out and calling out to me...saying they wanted stuff...the one comment burned into my memory was "Can we see up your skirt?" The two younger lads kept pushing the older one towards me. They were commenting on my fear of crossing the road, but my fear of them was greater and I made a break for it between two cars.

At first, I thought they'd followed me across the road as I was heading for a lonely shortcut and could still hear them. Changing trek, I continued down the main road, and a casual (terrified) glance around me ensured that they were still on the other side of the road...and following me down. I've rarely prayed out of fear, but I was praying then. They were still shouting comments, but I switched off to my Walkman. Rounding the corner and realising I was on the road that lead up to the road next to mine (until then, I hadn't known where I was, as I've only gone around with Gemma before, never alone), I glanced back up the street and saw them standing there about halfway up it, looking down. As soon as I was out of sight, I almost ran up the road back towards where I knew, praying again - this time brokenly thankful.

On the way back down my road, I passed three guys in their late teens/early twenties. All stared and all were silent as they passed me. Thankfully they didn't speak.

Logically, I probably didn't have much to fear as an 18 year old girl with three kids. For some reason, I just panicked.

It has one horrid tie to another memory, of the time when the car full of guys drove round the island when I was walking the dog, and were shouting and calling out to me. Something about being a prostitute or other. I wasn't dressed immodestly, either. At night. Dad was standing on the pavement, though.

Yes, I will be going out again, alone, with my dog. But this time, in clothes more appropriate to Who my God is.

I'm not telling this for a sob story, though I was scared - and am if I relive it. I simply wanted to point out why that happened to me - was because of a careless choice in clothes. Yes, I was wearing a high necked jumper with a zipped up loose cardy-jacket on top. I wasn't wearing overdone makeup or tons of jewellery. But a knee length skirt on a windy day (and now I misdoubt me whether it's laid me open to silent worse before now) laid me open to comments more appropriate to a whore. I'm not saying I'm better than one. I'm saying that as I'm trying to be different, trying to let God take over my life and for Him to shine through me - that was not and is not what I want to be seen as.

Dress like the world; get treated like a whore.
Follow Christ to the second mile, and receive His blessing while irradiating Him.

As once my motto was, so I pray to God that soon it will be again.

Purity at the highest cost.