Estella7 (estella7) wrote in exmormon,

Reason # 10,370 that the LDS church is ridic.

A recent article from LDS children's magazine, Friend.

Hannah’s New Dress

By Tamra S. Arthur

(Based on a true story)

My body is the temple my Father gave to me (Children’s Songbook, 153).

Four-year-old Hannah’s eyes popped open. Today was zoo day! She jumped out of bed.

“I’m ready,” she called.

“Ready for what?” Mom asked.

“Ready for the zoo!”

“Go look in the kitchen first,” Mom said.

Hannah hurried to the kitchen. There was an empty bowl on the table. Then Hannah remembered. Breakfast came before the zoo.

After Hannah ate, she handed Mom her bowl. “I’m ready now.”

“I don’t think so,” Mom said. “Go look in the mirror.”

Hannah ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, and she had a big white milk mustache. Hannah grabbed a cloth and washed her face. Then she brushed her teeth and combed her hair.

“Now I’m ready,” she called.

“Not yet,” Mom said. “Look in your bedroom for something Grandma sent you!”

Hannah ran to her room. A new dress was on her bed. It was white with red cherries on it. Red was her favorite color. But Hannah frowned.

“It doesn’t have any sleeves,” she said.

Mom went to Hannah’s closet. She pulled out a bright red T-shirt that matched the bright red cherries.

“You can wear this under the dress,” Mom said. “Then it will be modest.”

Hannah quickly put the T-shirt on and then the dress.

“Now I am ready to go to the zoo!”

“Yes,” Mom said and smiled. “Now you are ready.”

Official Web site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
© 2011 Intellectual Reserve, Inc. All Rights Reserved

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Well thank god the mormons have saved us from the foulness that is a kindergartner's upper arms! It's just like that verse in the bible - "Suffer the little children to come unto me; but not that tiny harlot with her arms showing."

That is stupid as hell!

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My thoughts exactly. This is why I still have a hard time wearing tank tops and shorts outside the house (but I'm working on it!).

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I've got the same pair as well! Actually, I should say my daughter does now, since they no longer fit me :) Everyone at her (highly non-Mo) school thinks they're pretty great.
I know Mormon men who go swimming in long pants and long sleeve (buttoned up) dress shirts! I know men who never wore shorts in public. Yet I've seen "modest" TBM women wearing transparent blouses to church, with their bra and garments plainly showing. The blouses had sleeves.
Luckily for me I didn't grow up in that mind trap and have no such problems. To my children's horror, I run nude in the San Francisco Bay-to-Breakers race. :-) There is also the LDS Skinny Dippers Association based in Utah:
At first I was thinking, hm, my daughter would say the exact same thing, you know, she hates to get sunburnt. And then I read on to the mother's reply and I was WHAT ON EARTH!
That story makes me feel kind of sad and I am glad my own daughter doesn't have to go through all that. Am I right in guessing that Grandma isn't a mormon? That she's had to stand by, watching her child join what amounts to a cult with good PR, biting her lip because if she says anything she'll lose her her child and grandchildren? My Grandmother once bought me a small silver cross which I loved right until my Father gave me a long lecture about how we didn't wear crosses, how wrong they were etc. I never did get to wear it after that.

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I was the same way with my star of David that i had since birth.
Crazy article!

My parents were actually more sane, and I have photos of myself wearing a sundress at approx. 5 years of age. When I saw those photos at aged 12, I was overcome with shame and fear that somehow my parents hadn't protected me from sin.

At 12, I didn't even understand why the church thought girls should cover their shoulders, but due to the extent that church leaders harped on the subject, I knew it was REALLY IMPORTANT. All that stress over nothing.
I had a friend back in the day who wore t-shirts under her tank tops. Luckily my mom didn't buy into that crap.