The story I'm about to tell in one I've been holding on to for three years. Yes, I've told those friends and family members closest to me, and while some have told me that it was blog-worthy, I've been hesitant.
Why, you ask?
Because it is about my former RS President.
Now that nearly three years have passed, and I'm two wards removed from that ward, I'm feeling like I can share one of the most awkward things I've ever experienced.
(Note: This lady is a good lady. No disrespect to her at all. In fact, she was a great RS President...I mean, she'd have to be, right? You'll understand what I mean in a minute.)
So my second child was only about a month old when I received a call from a member of the RS Presidency asking if they could stop by later that evening to see me. It was customary for them to visit the new moms of the ward.
I said that would be fine.
I had already been through my usual "post baby pants routine." Not familiar with this routine? It goes something like this:
1. A few weeks after baby is born you start feeling like hot stuff because you can finally see your feet again.
2. This confidence has you thinking that you can probably fit into some of your old clothes.
3. You try on your old jeans (your old "fat" jeans if you're smart).
4. There's still 3+ inches between the zipper tongs which brings you to tears, and you actually say to your husband while sobbing, "I was in my prime, and I didn't even know it!"
5. Your husband tells you to go shopping to get yourself new clothes.
6. You go shopping and buy the biggest normal size you've ever bought, but it's still nice to know you don't have to put back on your maternity clothes or the spit up on sweatsuit you've been rocking for several weeks straight.
So yeah, that had just happened to me, and after the above phone call, I decided to wear my new clothes, do my hair, put on some make up and look like I "had it all together" for my visitors that evening.
The knock on the door came that evening, and everything seemed pretty normal. They came in, inquired about how I was doing, wanted to see the baby, and brought me a hooded bath towel. I asked them if they wanted to sit down.
The RS President responded with, "Well actually, we want you to sit down because all new moms get FOOT RUBS! Do you mind?"
She then enthusiastically pulled out her own towel and lotion from behind her back.
A bit taken back, I didn't know what to say. I'm generally a little self conscious about my feet. I don't like them. They aren't pretty feet like some people have. Not to mention that it was fall time, I'd just been pregnant, and while I had tried to get ready that day, I hadn't thought about the state of my feet at all in quite some time!
In the moment though, I said, "Okay, if you want to."
So right there in my living room I got a foot rub from my RS President. And it wasn't short. And she did rub deeply.
Making the moment even more awkward was the fact that her counselors were probably in their 70s, and were even less comfortable than I was with what was going on.
The little secretary though was trying to make the best of the situation by carrying on with mindless chit chat while the president went to town on my toes.
And perhaps my embarrassment could have stayed relatively low had she stayed at my toes, but when she started rubbing up and down my calves, I panicked.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I SHAVED MY LEGS?
I mean, as stated before, I had made a valiant effort that day to shower and get myself presentable, but my legs? Any new mom can tell you that you're operating on about a 75% hygiene level for at least 2 months, and if it's fall time, the legs are part of my 25% that doesn't get done regularly.
So, much like a bad blind date, I just kept smiling and talking, all the while wondering when life would be normal again.
Then they left.
Super nice or weird? Is it just me?