Amanda Jenkins's Blog, page 8

Camera Lies

Just getting back into the swing of things after having four kids home for spring break, and  I’m paging through a tabloid I was embarrassed to purchase. But I took the bullet for my blog.
Here’s the front cover:


Ok—couple  observations/comments on the mixed messages we girls receive every day:
I’m gonna to start with a confession. Obviously these women are too skinny and terribly unhealthy. But when I first paged through the magazine, I felt a little jealous of their self-control when it comes to eating. Sick, right? They look like skeletons and I don’t want to be a skeleton. But I also don’t want to binge on the Easter candy that’s still in my pantry, so I wonder how they’re able to just say no.
There are six pages in the magazine with pictures of women who are near-death-skinny. There are also six ads in the magazine for weight loss supplements—five that take up the entire page.
Katie Holmes is pictured twice in the magazine. One for being grotesquely thin, and the other for looking beautiful and revamping her image on the cover of Allure Magazine. The caption reads: Katie is sexing it up.
Jessica Alba is also pictured twice. One for being anorexic and under 100 lbs, and the other for her new book called The Honest Life. Hm.
There’s a blurb about how John Mayer broke up with Katie Perry because she’s gained a few pounds.
There are before and after pictures celebrating Christina Aguilera’s weight loss.
Before and after pics showing weight gain.
Best dressed, worst dressed, contests for who wore what best.
Beauty tips. What’s in. Who’s wearing what’s in. What’s out. Which celeb is wearing what’s out.
Blech. I need to scrub my eyes. And by eyes, I mean my mind. Because in spite of all the mixed messages, this magazine and countless others communicate one main thing: you’re not good enough. And my goodness, if the most beautiful women in the world are starving themselves to be prettier, what hope is there for us normal folk? The answer is none. Unless, of course, we stop fixating on the mirror, and choose instead to fix our gaze on the one who is actually beautiful.

 One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple.Psalm 27:4

The Elle Train

A few weeks ago, Elle was coloring at the kitchen table while I was doing dishes, and she suddenly laughed out loud.

Me: Elle, what are you laughing at?
Elle, still giggling: I just told God a joke.
Me: You did?
Elle: Yeah, I tell him jokes all the time.
Me: Does he laugh?
Elle: Oh, yes. He thinks I'm SO funny.

Bait and Switch and the Perfect Wedge

I like to shop. In fact, the mall is one of my favorite places to spend an afternoon. My idea of a good time is thumbing through a Pottery Barn catalog. And Target? Well, let’s just say Tarjay is a vile temptress.
Of course, everyone knows money can’t buy happiness. Yet I pine for better clothes, area rugs, and seasonal candles. I can’t wait until we get the kids new bunk beds, and the outside of the house needs to be painted. Oh, and there’s the high-def TV and bookshelves for the family room, and I could really use a better digital camera. Heck, I even like buying toiletries. Just give me a store, a list, and a Diet Coke, and all is right with the world.
Which is, of course, not true. And I know better.
Four years ago we remodeled our house. We tore down walls, mak­ing three small rooms into one spacious family room. We redid the kitchen and the bathrooms, added a laundry room, and put in hardwood floors. I didn’t care that we couldn’t afford to decorate and furnish it completely, because it was adorable and it smelled new, which was good enough for me—for about six months.
I was content in my new house until I wasn’t. Eventually I wanted new furniture. I wished I’d chosen a darker shade of ecru in the living room, and as the kids grew, our spacious room started feeling less spa­cious. And that’s not the only time I’ve experienced fleeting thankful­ness. I loved our new car until I realized we needed better gas mileage (can I get an Amen?). I owned the perfect pair of boots until I realized, “Oh my gosh, this heel is so last season.” I was happy with my refrigerator until I saw the one with the bottom freezer drawer.
And so it goes.
Because just as God says, money—along with all the stuff it can buy—doesn’t satisfy. It’s never enough. And even when there is a new-purchase-high, it doesn't last.
Case in point, a couple weeks ago I was invited to a dressy event, but didn’t own the right pair of shoes. And by that I mean, not one of the seven pairs of heels in my closet would do. I was convinced I needed the winter wedge I'd seen at Target the week before. Since Dallas and I are in a season of life where every dollar counts, I justified the purchase by doing a little mental gymnastics—and voila! I bought the shoes. They looked fab during dinner, but came off once I hit the dance floor because shin splints are a real thing, and I quickly realized a mother of four doesn't belong five inches off the ground.
Now that the party is over, I can confidently say the shoes weren’t worth it. Not worth the cost to my wallet  or my shins or my relationship with the Lord because I ignored what would've honored Him with my finances—and ultimately my family. My greed won the day.Again. I’m not sure why I continually end up in this familiar place of spending regret, except that money is a constant  idol I battle. Those shoes where an idol, just like my home and everything else when they become more important than God and doing the right thing.

So I'm back to believing what God says about money. Which also means I'm back to confessing my materialism before my merciful Lord, praying for a renewed mind, and staying out of the shoe dept at Target.      Whoever loves money never has enough;
whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with their income.This too is meaningless. Ecclesiastes 5:10 

Camera Lies

At the grocery store yesterday, I couldn't help but peruse the April magazine covers. The following three were side by side, and I was struck by their competing, yet equally awful messages. Kim is fat because she can't stop eating, and also she's a sex kitten bombshell, pregnancy be damned.

What?

I remember being struck a few years ago by the same mixed reviews of Angelina Jolie: one tabloid with a front cover caption that read, Is Angelina Anorexic? and the one next to it with an arrow pointing to her stomach, wondering, Baby Bump? Same dress, by the way, the pictures taken at the same event.

These poor women, their every inch scrutinized.

And here's the truth: neither extreme is true, so I refuse to be fooled. Pregnancy ain't as pretty as Cosmo would have us believe, no matter how perfect the camera angle or how aggressive the air brushing (come on now...that's likely not even a recent picture). And also, on her worst day, Kim looks beautiful and PREGNANT...which means her body is going to be bigger. For like, nine months, you stupid, cruel rags. I mean tabloids.
   

The Elle Train

Our pastor is a hunter and has a few trophies mounted on his basement wall.

First time Elle saw them, she asked, "Is it Christian to have a cut-up deer on your wall?"

Nocturnal Jesus

The other day I came home to a headless Barbie. Considering the number of dolls that live in our house, it’s not much of a loss, but the principle bothered me; children shouldn’t rip the head off of anything. Even worse, no one fessed up. Of course, every kid had a theory about who-done-it, and finger pointing ensued. So there I was, suddenly involved in a caper I became bent on solving. After all, as any good perfectionist, I’m zealous about rules. And someone broke the rules.
Unfortunately, my interrogation turned into an hour long ordeal, and no one seemed close to breaking under the pressure. That is until my youngest suddenly changed his story and confessed-which meant he spent the next short chapter of his life in a time-out on his bed. After the sentence was served, he told me he didn’t actually do it. That he just knew what I wanted him to say.
Ugh.
Thing is, in my heart I knew I was supposed to throw in the towel long before the false confession. I was supposed to back off and let time and prayer take its course, said that still small voice in my ear. But I was a dog with a bone-which is ironic because a week has gone by, and I’m still not sure who did it—The Mystery of the Headless Barbie remains my first parenting cold case. And I have tremendous guilt over the whole thing because clearly the broken rule became too important to me—“winning” became too important. And the idea that it was an accident—that maybe the culprit wasn’t even aware of what had happened—never crossed my mind (though it quickly crossed my husband’s mind when I told him thestory later). That’s the thing about being a perfectionist--I have little grace for others, and even less for myself.

Sigh.
But there’s good news because God is pressing on my heart that He is bigger than my shortcomings—which is a great thing because, much to my dismay, I’m far from perfect. I make plans but can’t see around cor­ners. I get tired and can be impatient with my kids, most often around dinner-making time. I don’t have all the answers, espe­cially with Elle’s autism and our adopted son’s post-traumatic stress, so I make stuff up as I go along. And I’m terrified of snakes. No kidding. I’ll throw down with anyone to protect my munchkins, but if a snake shows up in our backyard, it’s every man and small child for himself. Because in spite of my efforts to the contrary, I’m limited. God, on the other hand, is not. He watches over my children when I can’t. He guards and guides their hearts. His judgment is never hindered by anger or fear or a lack of understanding. He’s always merciful and always patient. He sees around the next corner—and the next and the next.

He’s got it covered because He doesn’t sleep.

“My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip; He who watches over you will not slumber. Indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.”
Psalm 121:2-4
So, I’m emotionally laying down last week’s parental fail, and I’m choosing to rest in God’s grace, wisdom, and faithfulness—for myself and for Barbie’s assassin.

Camera Lies

Because my husband works in the film industry, I’ve had my picture taken with a lot of beautiful people—models, talk show hosts, and actors who are paid big bucks to look amazing for the camera.

Lucky me.  While most celebs really are good lookin’, there are tricks to taking a beautiful picture…and by that I mean ways to avoid looking large and awkward, as I am wont to do.

Case in point:


Grief. This is Dallas and me with our sweet friend, Lacey Chabert. Since she’s grown up in front of the camera (Party of Five, Mean Girls, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past), she knows to stand at an angle, put her chin down, pop a knee up, cross her leg over, jut a hip out, lean slightly forward, pull her elbows in, push her shoulders back, and avoid a face-swallowing smile. Like mine.

In my defense, I was pregnant. And my hair was in a ponytail, not cut short like my nana's. Though truth be told, on my best day I’d have to stand sideways—or behind that bush—to NOT look twice as big as Lacey. 
I have no defense for those glasses.

So like I said in my first Camera Lies post, my intention isn't to pass on tricks-of-the-trade. On the contrary, I’m trying to expose the smoke and mirrors of Hollywood. Trying to train my eyes to see beneath the surface, to discern what’s true, and to stop chasing perfect.
Angle stance
 
 Chins down, knees up


Elbows in, shoulders back 
Cross a leg, jut a hip

All of the above. Catherine is very hardcore.

The Elle Train

Looks like I'm gonna get my weekly Elle anecdote in, just under the Friday wire. I planned on posting earlier today and was derailed by a headless Barbie--but more on that (and my stellar parenting, sarcasm abounding) next week.
So when the kids visit my husband's office, they doodle on his white board. A few weeks ago, Elle wrote "I am a gost" in the hope that Dal's boss, Mrs. Nelson, would see it, assume Dallas wrote it, and fire him for being a ghost; which would allow him to stay home all the time.

When that didn't work, she upped her game.

"I don't blevin God and Jesus. By Dallas Jenkins"

A few days later, she tried again. 

"Dear Mrs Nelson. I'm not liking this but #1 I don't like you #2 I don't want to work. By Dallas Jenkins
PS. I want candy"

When I asked her why she wrote, "I'm not liking this," she said, "Well I do like her. She's pretty and sweet. But I AM trying to get Dad fired."

To date, Dallas is still employed but you gotta love her stick-to-itiveness; which I googled and feel fairly confident is a real word.

Bring on the Gray

Reading Jamie Lee Curtis’s “True Thighs” yesterday got me thinking about my own flaws and Proverbs 31:25—a verse I didn’t always understand, but LOVE now that I do. More than that...it's become my battle plan.

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

I love this verse because I love this woman. She laughs. She’s happy and carefree. Bring on the gray hair and belly rolls—noth­ing can steal her confidence. And I want to be just like her. I would love to laugh at the days to come, because laughing would mean I’m not afraid of them, that my heart is full of joy and my self-worth on solid ground.

So what does this woman have that I don’t have? Strength and dignity. It takes strength to push back against the pressures of our culture and to resist the urge to cling to youth. It takes dignity to stand tall in spite of humbling changes in our aging bodies, to reject the notion that we’re more valu­able if we’re beautiful. Strength and dig­nity have the power to keep us grounded in the reality of God’s loving acceptance. With them, we can wage war against the constantly critical inner voice and experience a confidence that doesn’t ebb and flow. Because while vanity is a fierce opponent, strength and dignity are its kryptonite.

It’s time to get back to Sunday school basics: God made us and He loves us. If we believe that, we’ll begin to be content with the unique way we’ve been created. And although the temptation to find our worth in beauty remains, God will provide strength and dignity for the journey.

And we’ll laugh.

Camera Lies

Love this article and Jamie's willingness to pull back the curtain on her bangin' body reputation. Take a few minutes to read the entire thing-it's worth it. 

Favorite couple lines:

“There’s a reality to the way I look without my clothes on,” she says. “I don’t have great thighs. I have very big breasts and a soft, fatty little tummy. And I’ve got back fat....I don’t want the unsuspecting forty-year-old women of the world to think that I’ve got it going on. It’s such a fraud. And I’m the one perpetuating it.”

“I’ve done it all,” [Jamie] says, breaking yet another unwritten Hollywood rule: Never fess up. “I’ve had a little plastic surgery. I’ve had a little lipo. I’ve had a little Botox. And you know what? None of it works. None of it.”

She glances down at her feet, shod in designer sandals, and smiles. “I’m going to look the way God intends me to look,” she says. “With a little help from Manolo Blahnik.”

 http://www.more.com/news/womens-issues/jamie-lee-curtis-true-thighs