Nope. No personal photos. I will spare you all. Just a stock photo of this nice lady doing some garment shopping. So fun.
Growing up, I was not an immodest young woman. I want to stress that. I never owned a two-piece swimsuit. I usually wore a t-shirt over my one piece, for Pete's sake. I had a few tank tops that I would wear in the summer, almost always with something underneath, and usually when going to a pool or the beach. I didn't wear spaghetti straps to school or shorts that my butt cheeks hung out of. I did own cut-off shorts, but I usually wore tie-dye leggings or black tights underneath (I was a weird kid - my mom loved it - just kidding - she hated it). I did wear dresses to formals (all two that I went to) that showed my shoulders. But that is the extent of my debauchery. All this to say - I was modest. I didn't think that the leap to wearing garments would be so difficult. But it was. It started on day one.
As I mentioned in my temple post, I immediately was uncomfortable in my new unmentionables. Upon exiting the temple, I found myself tugging at my neckline and checking constantly to see if they were showing. The next day, we were getting ready for our wedding and our reception, so we were doing a lot of physical work and now I had to do all of that in my knee length shorts, which I absolutely loathed. The garments don't fit naturally. The waist is high and skinny, and when the waistband falls at your natural waist, it tends to ride up in the back. I spent the better part of the day pulling and tugging and readjusting my underwear. Then there's the whole matter of the honeymoon. Technically, I should have slept in my garments. No way was I going to do that. I'm finally married, free from all the constraints that had been previously placed on me, and they wanted me to sleep in this sexless ensemble? Herein lies the beginnings of the guilt that will follow me through my adult life for not wearing the garments 'as instructed in the endowment'.
When we were first married, I struggled to wear the bottoms. They were so uncomfortable. I would wear the top. I doubt that anyone noticed, because as I said, I was a modest person. But Dave noticed.
I want to pause here and point out the difference between men and women in garment wearing. Men's garments are much more socially acceptable than women's. Period. Men are essentially wearing a t-shirt and longer underwear. They can go into a public locker room and change in front of the other men and hardly anyone would blink. Women, on the other hand, we are wearing a blouse under our bras and shirts. In addition to that, we are wearing essentially shorts under our pants and skirts, both of which tend to fit in a much different way than men's clothing. The mere fact that we are encouraged to wear skirts to every church event makes garments a challenge. Either you wear a prairie skirt that goes well beyond your knees, or you risk showing the world your G's. And THAT is immodest. There's no social acceptance while undressing or changing clothes in a public setting, just stares. As a result, women hide when they are changing at the gym or in a dressing room. They look for a curtain or a door to change behind. They have to be careful about doctor's appointments and any other situation in which they may be asked to remove an article of clothing. It is a different experience entirely for women. We won't even touch on the gynecological aspect of these female garment bottoms designed by men. What a nightmare.
So, back to Dave. He noticed my halfsie-garment-wearing ways. He was kind, but he remarked on it and was consistently encouraging me to wear the entire ensemble. What did this result in? It resulted in me hiding when I got dressed. Rather than dressing in front of Dave where he could watch me cheat, I dressed in the bathroom and came out fully dressed. How sad is that? Hiding from my own husband to avoid his judgement and disappointment. This lasted for maybe the first year of our marriage and then I succumbed. I surrendered to the garments and started wearing them like I had covenanted to. Night and day. Every day.
I coasted for years this way. Decades, even.
Towards the end of my activity in the church, I again became lackadaisical about wearing my garments. Again, Dave would notice me dressing and ask, "Do you have another doctor's appointment today or something?", all the while knowing full well that I did not. He didn't want to just come out and say it. I don't blame him. As my husband and the priesthood holder, I know he felt a responsibility to make sure I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. It was literally his duty. I'm also sure that on some level it made him nervous and afraid to see his wife not keeping her covenants. It implies so much. So - I would begrudgingly change and put on my garments before heading off to work. Again, this whole process made me want to hide.
When I decided I was done and I finally told Dave, I stopped wearing them altogether. Within a matter of weeks, I threw them all out. Every pair. Even the brand new ones that were still in their pink plastic package. I went to a family event without wearing them and was privately called out by a family member, who was upset at the idea. That's how garments work, you see. They are an 'outward expression of an inner commitment' - not only for yourself, but for others. If someone isn't wearing them, others know. And that alone speaks volumes. If someone shows up at church in a sleeveless dress or a short skirt, you know so much about them. You know they don't have garments on, which means they probably don't have a temple recommend, which means they aren't able to answer the temple recommend questions successfully to gain a recommend. From there, you can take your pick as to what their issue is: infidelity? non-tithe payer? past sin? failing testimony? Faithful members can speculate as much as they like.
It took me over a year, easily, to be comfortable wearing clothing that would not pass the garment litmus test. I knew how people would perceive me. I knew they would talk. Wonder. And that was hard. But, since I have stopped wearing them, I feel more like me. I don't know how else to describe it. For decades, I let someone else dictate to me what underwear I wore. I felt guilt and shame for not wearing them exactly as prescribed. I hid from my husband when dressing so he wouldn't know. I looked for garment lines on others to assess their faithfulness and devotion. Shedding them was liberating. In so many ways.
Let those shoulders breathe, honey.
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