The title of this post, dear ones, is probably the closest thing to my family’s motto (second runner up is “Protect your face!”). I am the shame of the family, however, as my hair rarely has product in it, I last wore makeup in 2002, and I just don’t wear skirts. Ever*. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m still checking myself in every reflective surface I pass (we call that “Joe G. Syndrome”, after my maternal grandfather), I’m just liable to be wearing jeans and a t-shirt with obscure scifi references emblazoned across the chest. I dare not look anything less than presentable when I leave the house, for fears the spirits of my Grandmothers will hover around and smack me upside the head while chanting, “Oh, it’s such a shame! She’s such a pretty girl, if she only tried harder, here, sweetie, go put this outfit on and come back later.” I know what looks good on me, and I try my best to find clothes that are fitted properly, because a well-fitted blouse or pair of pants will make a fat girl like me look much better than the potato sacks that a lot of the industry tries to foist off on us big chicas.
Therefore, it was with great interest that I read this article on Fidelia’s Sisters about clergy shirts for women. Because I have never in my life seen a clergy shirt fit properly on a woman, whether or not she was a big girl or a tiny thing I could fit in my pocket.
The point is made in the article that there are well-made, well-fitted clergy shirts out there for women, but they are expensive and a new priest (of any age, but this article focuses on us young sprogs) really can’t afford to be dropping 100-200 bucks on a shirt.
And the spirits of my Grandmothers posessed me, and I spoke unto the women clergy, saying, “So what? If it’s something you’re going to wear a lot, and it not only looks good but it’s comfortable, you spend the money and you take care of it and it will last you for many years! It’s an investment in yourself and your career.”
And the spirits of my Grandmothers continued to possess me, and I spoke prophecy unto the laity, saying, “Oh, come on, you all know at least one female clergy person who is dear enough to your heart that you’re willing to open your wallet. Even better if she’s an ordinand, because that’s the time when you’re expected to pony up for extravagant gifts. How many deacon stoles does the Transitional Deacon need, really? She’s only going to be in the gig for six months or a year or so, and she’s going to be needing clericals, God willing, for decades! Pony up the cash and get her a gift certificate for a nice shirt.”
And then the spirits of my Grandmothers started in on my socks, which don’t match today, and I sent them back to where they belong.
*I do own two very adorable dresses, but they get trotted out on my once-a-year foray into the world of High Class Society. And I’m already planning on wearing one of ’em to the Big Blue Box holiday party, because the people there only ever see me in yellow and denim with my hair pulled straight back, I think it’ll be fun to freak ’em out.