I was never one to wear a bikini…or even look remotely average in one or at least that is what I told myself. The mirror agreed. No matter which one I tried, how much I spent, my ability to suck in my stomach, or stick out my chest, I didn’t quite look how I was supposed to, at least according to how people look on T.V, or in those ads in all the magazines….Even the ones with padding in the bra fell significantly short. If it wasn’t one body part failing me, it was another. My muscular thighs looked like jello. My broad shoulders made me look like a guy, and boobs? Um hello?? Where are you? Stomach? Girl! Don’t even go there!
I know, this is ridiculous right? For everyone that knows me, I am not looking for a bombardment of “your so pretty and skinny compliments”. I’m trying to make a point. I am athletic and I’ve put my body through incredible feats, not the least of which has been childbirth. I should have been proud of my body, not ashamed. I should have always celebrated the fact that I can ski, that I can swim, that I can run, and that this body with its bit of cellulite, and extra flab in the wrong places lets me do all of this. As a teenager and a young woman I should have been able to strutt my stuff on the beach and feel just fine, maybe even attractive…but I didn’t. I wore a bathing suit self-conciously, convinced that everyone on the beach or at the pool was judging that extra bit of skin, or that dimple on my right leg. I’d waste time in front of the mirror contemplating whether I could even be seen in public wearing a two piece. I would hazard to bet that almost every girl and woman out there has felt the same way as I did at some point in her life whether a size 2 or a size 22.
There is a great article floating about the internet right now by Lisa Bloom on “How to talk to Little Girls”: