"What Not To Wear" on Easter Sunday

Ever look at a picture of yourself when you were a kid, and say, "What was my mom thinking, letting me go out in public looking like that?"

That was my reaction the other day when I pulled out this photo. Then I realized that my mom probably had nothing to do with this getup.

Obviously, I have been fashion-challenged since childhood--hence, the vertical stripes on the pants paired with horizontal stripes on the bit o' belly-revealing shirt. Apparently, I also decided that this ensemble needed to be jazzed up with some "statement" accessories--hence, the plastic bowl covers on my head and hands.

Fun, yes. Fashionable? Not so much.

This may explain my current fascination with the TV program What Not To Wear. Call me shallow; call the whole hour a complete waste of time. Or be like my husband (who, for the record, can watch endless footage of men shooting each other in Any War documentaries, and is enormously entertained by The Three Stooges) and shake your head and say, "I cannot understand what's so interesting about that show."

I'll tell you what's so interesting about that show: transformation. Transformation that spawns hope. Hope that inspires confidence.

For the uninitiated, let me explain. The whole process happens in several stages.

1. Unkempt/frumpy/weird-looking person is nominated by "friends" because, generally, they think she can look a whole lot better. They all want her outward appearance to be a reflection of the wonderful, giving, vibrant, selfless person she is on the inside.

2. They subject her to a wardrobe-purging and a few rounds of ridicule in front of a 360-degree mirror.

3. Then she goes shopping--first alone, then with help--to spend the $5000 they give her.

4. She gets her hair styled and her makeup done...

5. And voila! She appears before her cheering ("Wow, she looks so much better!") ("And her outside finally matches her insides!") friends as a practically totally different person. If she wore glasses before, they have magically disappeared.

The change is generally stunning, and it gives me hope--as in, "Gee, if she looks that bad and I certainly don't look that bad, and she can end up looking that good, then there's hope for me to look that good." 

Am I alone here? I think not.

Metamorphosis is a national (if not human) obsession.

It starts when we're kids, with fairy tales like Cinderella, The Ugly Duckling, and Beauty and the Beast, and with toys like Transformers and Stretch Armstrong. Then it continues into adulthood infomercials for P90X and the Total Gym and Thigh Squishers and Ab Doodlers, until at last it invades reality TV with shows like The Biggest Loser and yes, What Not To Wear.

We crave physical transformation.

Which makes Easter all the more compelling, all the more stunning, all the more reason to revel in the ultimate physical transformation:  from dead to alive.

Dead to alive.

First Jesus.

Then you and me.

In a much, much bigger way, this change, too, spawns hope. Hope that inspires confidence--for every frumpy, unkempt, weird one of us who chooses to believe...and then to celebrate the fact that our insides really can match our outsides--forever.

Happy Resurrection Day.

 Enjoy the new you...