Saturday, December 22, 2012

I Got Implants--in the Mail!

LOOK what I got for Christmas!

 ECStilsonfakeboobjob 

Now before you go thinking something that isn't, READ ON!
After all, these puppies came in the mail!

Have you ever felt like you aren't good enough? If you could just have this or that, maybe things would be better? I wrote about this last week here: Do you ever feel worthless?

    Well, I recently learned an amazing lesson--let me explain. . . .
 
Everyone who's read this blog for a while knows how insecure I am/was about my boobs. Here's a perfect example:

At the time, we’d been back in school for a week. I remember because I saw Sarah dressing in the locker room; she was the girl in high school whom everyone wanted to be.
    I always tried changing far in the back where no one would see me. The teachers made three classes change with each other in a big room. I’d rush to my corner, where rows of yucky green lockers stretched. Normally no one bothered me, but that day was different; it was horrible.
    Sarah saw me changing before I even put my shirt on. She pulled my skinny elbow and forced me to stand in front of everyone. I still had my polyester pants on—although it was the 90’s not the 70’s—but everyone just stared at my training bra. Sarah laughed so hard she bent over. I tried getting away, but her two friends, one who looked like a poodle and the other a giant of a girl, grabbed me, and held me there.
    “Hey, look at this,” Sarah sniggered. “Elisa’s got a training bra. She’s got the smallest tits I’ve ever seen.” 
     I felt really small inside AND out, but even though I wanted to hate her, I thought how beautiful God made her. You see, Sarah wasn’t your average beauty; no, she reached beauty queen status before even being a junior.
    As she made fun of me, in front of all those girls, I watched her hair. She had red hair, not Kool-Aid red like I dyed mine, but real red. It was cut into an amazing style, and as if that wasn’t enough, she had dark-tanned skin that almost glowed next to my whiteness.
    I zoned out then, as the girls continued ridiculing me, I focused on a memory of playing the violin at church.
    The Giant and Poodle-face pushed me back toward the corner and broke my trance. “Yeah,” the Giant yelled. “Bible Girl probably lost her virginity to her own finger.”
    A lot of the girls laughed at that one. I tried showing they couldn’t get me down. “Nice one,” I said to the Giant, and when she looked at me she rolled her eyes.
    I put my shirt on fast after that. Then everyone left, and I crumpled onto the cement by the lockers. The air from the vent blew cold on my cheeks and smelled like sweat. I put my face in my hands and sighed thinking I’d never understand people. I couldn’t figure why Sarah, the Giant, and Poodle-face had made fun of me. I’d been nice, but it was never good enough. No matter how much I had changed since junior high, or how many times I waved at them in the hall, it was always the same; they were always mean.
    As I sat there wishing to be back at church, I pulled my Bible from my orange backpack. I opened it and can you believe, the thing fell to the perfect place! Philippians 4:8.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

It made me feel better. Not that part of me stopped wishing Sarah and her friends might get hit by lightning but because I knew God was looking out for me. I just needed to focus on the good things.
    I stared at my Bible and smiled. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be called Bible Girl. God and my Bible were the only factors that got me through.
    The truth is, though, something changed that day. It wasn’t a drastic change, like going from Jekyll to Hyde. It was something small, but a step nonetheless. It was the first time I thought about running away.


That's the beginning of Bible Girl & the Bad Boy.


    This has been a big issue for me--not because I really want implants, but because part of me feels flawed without them.
    It wasn't until last week that I realized something.  I shouldn't be asking why God made me so flat. Instead, I should be asking why I can't be happy with the way He made me.
 
    I needed you to understand that to prepare you for what happened--it is a bit hilarious, involving a mysterious package I got in the mail.

    To be continued tomorrow in the story: I Had Boobs for a Day!