The Mark of the Devil

This is a story. It’s a true story. It’s a story that happened to me. And, I’m sorry to say, in this story, I am the antagonist.

It began innocently enough. I had arrived on time for ward council. Early, in fact, because my bishop used to say that 5 minutes early is 10 minutes late, and I tried very hard to be as obedient as I possibly could be. So, leaving my children and their hair in the care of my husband, I dressed in garment-appropriate clothing. Or so I thought. “Ask yourself, “Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord’s presence?”” Leaving my house, I would have said ‘yes.’ But you see, I had deceived myself.

I had chosen to wear black patterned tights to church.

You’re probably wondering if I missed every lesson about modesty in Young Women and Relief Society. You might be thinking about quoting For the Strength of Youth, “Show respect for the Lord and yourself by dressing appropriately for Church meetings and activities. This is especially important when attending sacrament services.”

I thought I was safe. After all, my skirt went below my knees, without even a slit in the side to allow a male-gaze-magnet peek-a-boo of my upper leg. My shoes were black heels, but low ones. And I had seen an older woman with the same tights on. In fact, I had seen her wear them for several months before I cornered her in the foyer beneath the picture of outstretched-hands Jesus to ask where she bought them. Temptation comes in all forms, and this sister, who should have been a mentor and guide for my inexperienced 40-year-old self, not only told me where she bought them, but she told me she was excited for us to be twinners.

If only.

I first became aware of my Jezebel status when I entered ward council at 7:00 AM, black patterned tights and all. One worthy priesthood holder leaned over another worthy priesthood holder to say, “I wish my wife would wear tights like that. They make your legs look so attractive.”

I knew the fault lay with me and my ill-conceived choice in clothing when not a single Righteous Temple-recommend holding Priesthood Leader, told the aforementioned Brother in Christ that he was out of line. None of them stepped in to say that his comment was inappropriate, or that his gaze on my legs unwelcome. The discomfiture was palpable, and it was clearly my fault. “When you are well groomed and modestly dressed, you invite the companionship of the Spirit and you can be a good influence on others. Your dress and grooming influence the way you and others act.” 

After ward council, a man I dearly loved and who had been a friend to me for many years, took me aside and, in private and with much generosity, shared his own story. I don’t think he would mind if I were to reshare it here so that others may learn from our mistakes. You see, he had worn a tie once with bright stripes. His Bishop explained to him that if his tie evoked comments, it was a distraction from the spirit. “You also send the message that you are using your body to get attention and approval.” The Spirit, it seems, is a fickle companion. I had attention, yes. Approval, of a sort. Neither of those things had been the intended effect, but they were, nevertheless, the cross I bore for my excitement over novelty tights.

I rebelliously wore those tights straight to the mother’s lounge tucked modestly in a corner of the women’s bathroom and removed them. I then had another problem. Naked legs. I had a bishop who used to say that life swings on small hinges. I just didn’t know patterned tights were hinges on the saloon doors to hell.

Sisters. I never intended to be a distraction from the purpose of meeting with my fellow saints. I thought, mistakenly, that sexy thoughts only happen when shoulders, bellies, and knees are reveled to Mormon men. I didn’t understand that sexy thoughts also happen with black roses on a woman’s calf.

I thought, mistakenly, that my husband and four children were enough of a shield that any sexy thoughts by not-my-husband men would be quickly repented of, if they accidentally happened at all. I didn’t realize that men have so little control over their thoughts that no amount of friendship with another man will prevent them from thinking sexy things if they see an ankle with a black leaf on it.

I didn’t understand that men are so fragile, so easily led to immoral thoughts, that a glimpse of patterned tights would disrupt so many temple-sealed marriages.

Let this be a lesson to all other sisters lest you fall into the trap and the great confidence that has been placed in you be withdrawn. Your body, made in the image of God, is a stumbling block on the road to exaltation, especially when you slip your legs into patterned tights early on a Sunday morning.