I found myself furtively staring at the family across the aisle from me on the airplane. The boys looked just like mine as they played their Nintendo DSs, but their yarmulkes and tzitzis gave them away as Orthodox Jews; as did the long-sleeved shirt and long skirt of the mother, a pretty woman who looked about my age. She caught me staring a few times. I wanted to reassure her that I wasn’t staring because I thought she was weird. “I’m modest too!” I wished I could explain (me in my jeans and fitted t-shirt). But modesty means different things to different people and she might not have agreed.
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India, my 13-year-old daughter, held the photo of me at my first BYU Preference dance. She wasn’t aghast at the big permy 80’s hair or the white pantyhose on my legs. Instead she exclaimed, “Mom, your dress doesn’t have sleeves!” I tried to explain that back when I had to sign an honor code, it just said that modesty meant no spaghetti straps or strapless tops. Things changed somewhere along the line and now good Mormon girls go to the prom in temple-ready dresses. I didn’t mention to India that I think it’s dumb for girls to have to dress like they are already wearing garments.
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Modesty is a tricky subject. It means something different for people of our faith than it does for anyone else. It means different things to people within our faith. The Brethren have done a good job of giving us guidelines without trying to get too nitpicky. (Although if you have a teenage girl, nitpicky would be nice. Trying to explain why a modest tankini is not allowed at Girls Camp is no fun, let me tell you.)
On one hand are my LDS sisters who tuck and pin and roll garment waistbands way down. On the other are my LDS sisters who wear swimsuits that not only have sleeves, but are knee-length as well (they exist, oh yes they do).
Shuffling around in the middle are a lot of people like me. I want to look attractive and–dare I say it—just a hint of sexy. I don’t want to wear a t-shirt so tight that you can see the stitching of my bra. But I don’t want to dress the same as my 65-year-old mother either.
Some of my temptations have been removed: a bikini and short shorts are no longer within the realm of possibility due to cellulite issues. But other things are more grey: I have several knit dresses—how clingy is too clingy? Can shoes be immodest? I thought not until one of the Laurels in my ward showed up in 4” platform heels that looked way too stripper-ish. Is all cleavage forbidden? What about our big-busted sisters who show cleavage unless they are wearing a turtleneck? Is it their problem or ours? I guess that’s what it all boils down to; is modesty about what feels right to ourselves or is just about what other people think?
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