I've been thinking...actually I've been obsessing about wearing men's shorts. Everyday I wake up and try to figure out what skirt matches with what shirt and which tights and I can't stand it. I love those Abercrombie shorts for men. I want those. Not the ones for girls. But a MAN'S GARMENT. That's right. Those. But if I wear the shorts, in the city, away from all the chassidish prying eyes, that means I'm fry right? I'll break shabbos next. That means I've messed up the last 4 years of suffering and sacrifice. For what... convenience? Not having to coordinate an outfit? But why did I become frum in the first place? Honestly, the journey seems like a bad dream. I was seduced by a rabbi and an unspoken promise..that If I became frum, all the shit would stop. I would be a better person, have a purpose in life, do what G-d wants, have a real family. But its been four years worth of keeping shabbos, keeping kosher, tznius, davening, chitas, a year in semimary, 10 trips to the Ohel, not shaking men's hands even though it embarrassed me, not listening to music during the Omer, the list goes on and on and on. But how do I feel? Empty, spiritually void, frustrated. Sometimes I yell at You. Why did you do this to me? You wanted me to be observant that badly? Why do I feel depressed and angry if I'm doing what You want? Shouldn't I feel complete and loved and whole and special?
It's funny how everything I've worked for the last few years comes down to the flick of the light switch, the choice of a restaurant. I've included the picture of the shorts for a small dose of humor.
Ode to Midwestern Snow
6 years ago