He was on his way out and I was on my way in. The kids and I didn’t go to church this morning. Two of the kids were out late last night for a dance. That would not have stopped us if I’d really wanted to go, but I didn’t. Dad had to preach in Waverly, and I think he’s accepted my sometimes odd church ways. I had to teach Sunday School so we couldn’t skip entirely.

“Hey, Slim”, he says in that happy way when he sees me. For as long as we’ve gone to this church it’s what he’s called me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him actually call me by name. I am also pretty sure that addressing a woman in such a way which also involves commenting on her physical appearance is something that is and is generally considered inappropriate.

But for whatever reason it’s never bothered me except for today. He’s called me Slim all these years but I have changed since we moved here. “Slim? Still?”, I said, thinking that was enough now. I was serious. I could see slim then but would not say that now. “Oh come on”, he said, “false humility is just as much of a sin as anything else.” You can see why I like talking to him.

“No, I’m serious”, I said. Just last night I’d been thinking about my body, this cursed and ongoing struggle with being okay with what it looks like. “This whole past week I have actually been depressed because of these ten pounds I’ve gained that I can’t seem to lose”, I said. “Where?”, he asked me, wanting the evidence. I put my hands over my waist and held them there.

“Right here.” He said something that I cannot now exactly remember. The conversation gradually moved to school and how it’s going. I told him he could be one of my first clients if he wanted. “Oh no”, he said. “You wouldn’t want to know what goes on inside here. I’m pretty dark.” Well, I am too, I offered, it’s why we go into these professions. Dark would be no new surprise.

And in that moment I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong. To go out for lunch or a drink and say, “Tell me all about your life.” He seemed sure his dark was beyond human telling. I felt pretty certain it could not be that bad. He finally agreed, but only if I told him my secrets first. “Well we couldn’t be professional then if I did that.” That’s what it says in the rules.

I actually wanted to say something else, but I refrained. I am still thinking about the body thing and I don’t think depressed was quite the right word. More like tired but faintly hopeful. “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart”, God says. And here man does not think in the way I once thought him to. God is the one who needed perfection.