Situational Modesty?

I've been up for hours since scriptures and breakfast -- and packing adults and children out the door for school, work and Whatnot.
And doing dishes and laundry.
And straightening the house.
And such.

The fact that I have persisted in wearing my ankle-length, red Stewart Tartan nightgown and have neglected to make my bed doesn't mean that I am lazy or am still trying to pretend to sleep (my legitimate excuse might be the gallons of grape juice we finished canning outside about midnight, right before the thunder and lightning picked up); rather, that I am working on another musical and have a midterm (Western songs and some love sonnets) to write -- and that I happened to get a streak of Inspiration before Getting Dressed. I work better in comfort. But Blooming-Bolt-of-Lightning Or Not, Ten O'clock is the Final Deadline for dressing and making the bed.

As the honest hour approached, I dutifully scurried to the WC to make like I Belong to The Day. And here's where the Modesty Issues come in: what I wanted to wear was in a shopping bag in the trunk of the car, which presently camps in the driveway in front of the house while it awaits the repairman's fixing of its automatic garage opener.

Our neighborhood is a quiet one, where most of the traffic (except for a few stray cars that expect a through street and turn around fast and furious when our Loop is recognized for what it is) belongs to the few houses on our street. By Ten, most folks are off on their Daily Rounds, and I tell myself that it is unlikely I would be spotted by Anyone if I make a dash to the trunk of my homeless sedan. But (okay, this sounds lazy) What can I wear that will require the least amount of changing, between now and the course of the few minutes that follow this hypothetical Dash?

Just underwear is out. Obviously. No matter how much I pretend it covers or who I am sure won't see me. The Tartan would be quick, and it's ready to hand. I have actually worn it outside the house before, more times than I hope to mention. But that is usually well before 6:30 am, when the sky is dark and I am taking a three-minute dash to drop off a child at the Seminary Building before school. Is it wrong to wear the gown at ten, but moral at six? Neck-to-wrist-to-ankle, I am covered; is it immodest because it suggests a location, activity or time that is out of tune with Sunshine? Is the Now-It-Is, Now-It's-Not idea true, or is it another of Justification's masks?

I confess a hope to be a champion of decency. Along with carefully examining and weighing each of the clues of a person's character; including how one treats her family, how he spends his money, what attitudes a person has about God, politics and entertainment; I think modesty in dress and grooming is an excellent litmus test for suitability of dating and marriage partners -- and I cheer (disappointedly, I confess,) when my sons have the courage to rule out an otherwise great-seeming candidate on the basis of her breach of modesty. And they do. Rarely does a girl get another chance, once she has been relegated to the Boot Hill of Indecency. If she is Almost Modest now, what else will be Almost about her?

Clearly, I am an imperfect one to make judgements: I have had my own moments of doubt and have succumbed to pressures, to my deep regret and even horror. I wish I could see myself as others see me before I do Dumb Stuff, so I could fully experience the chagrin of my bumbling ways without having to embarrass myself in public. I wrestle with my swimsuit each time I put it on, wondering how I can do better without sinking under the weight of a water-logged burka (like much of what's in my closet, this suit is black -- and I know I splash in deadly peril, should any shark casually glide by, since the long sleeves of my rash guard over the nearly-knee-length unitard give me a look that has too much in common with a round, slow-moving seal; to counteract this, I often add a loud pair of striped men's trunks). What to do?

Is modesty situational? Covered is clearly important, but it's also not the whole picture. Tight is out: if a top (or a pair of glorified nylons) shows the bumps and rolls and underwear cuts underneath (like some sort of colored skin from a Space show) what's the difference between that and painted Naked -- and how does this apply to swimming? Every two-year-old knows where his knee is: is a dress worth its 70% off price tag if I only wear it when I stand and it covers my knee -- and what will I do when I actually have to sit down? Can I really only wear this top if I am around folks who are shorter than I?

Now I really am tired. I pulled a black sweater and matching skirt from the closet and put them on, just in case someone knocks on the door. I'd be better off worrying about the stuff in my shopping bags another day. I may look presentable, but the clouds just pulled a cover over the sun.

Maybe I'm better off going back to bed.


Originally published on facebook on October 2.  All photos from sxc.hu: used courtesy of montagu, Pirjo L., Fokko Veenstra and Marion BELLET.