I have had a love/hate…okay a hate/hate with my body forever. I can’t remember a time when I thought I was pretty, adorable, cute…nothing. My nickname was “thunder thighs” growing up. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I realized that wasn’t meant as a complement. I used to be obsessed with diets, I would challenge my self to see how long I could go without eating…anorexia was a dear friend of mine. I never “grew” out of it. I thought I was fat at size 4. I thought I was hefty when I tried on a wedding dress that was size 6. I haven’t worn a dress in over 15 years because of my man calfs. It is has gotten to where I am almost prudish in my attire. The less skin I show, the better I feel. I LOVE winter with its bulky sweaters. So it is with this that I empathize greatly with anyone who has body issues. Whether they are new issues or old. I have friend who thinks she is too skinny. She wishes she could gain weight, and gets upset when she doesn’t. Body issues are not only for one side of the scale or the other. I have read blogs where people are upset at skin discoloration, cellulite, strange feet, off center nose…you name it. I and we are not alone.
This summer there seems to be a lot of articles on the Fear of missing out. Or the “I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks I am wearing a swimsuit”. I have always enjoyed this articles. “GO YOU!” I think. “Get out there”, I say. I like them, I share them, I am happy for the person who wrote them. Then I hide in my house. I go to the beach in pants and shirt and watch from the shore line as my son dances in the waves. I have near panic when I think of walking around a water park. Walking around with practically nothing on literally makes my heart race. Not because I am modest. Modesty gave out a while ago. It is because of how I look in a bathing suit. The white legs that haven’t seen sun since I was in daycare. The flabby arms, the mom belly, saggy butt, you name it. Taking my clothes off in front of anyone but myself is right up there with gouging my eyes out with a spoon. So I don’t do it. I bought the bathing suit. I planned on doing it, but I don’t do it. What if people point and laugh? What if I see those smirks from those perfect people? What if….
Then the other day I put my swim suit on…I stood in my bedroom hyperventilating. My son walked in and his entire face lit up. Eyes wide, huge smile he exclaimed “YOU’RE COMING IN THE WATER WITH ME! YAY!!!!” Ran out of the room dancing. Every single what if went out the window.
What if…F*ck it.
What if I stop giving a shit what other people think of me? What if I go to the beach and focus only on my son having the time of his life and not anything else. What if I have fun. What if the biggest concern I have is getting the sand out of my hair. What if indeed.
It is time for all of us to stop giving a shit. Big, small, fat, skinny, whatever else we find “wrong” with ourselves. Stop giving a shit. Life is too fucking short to be so concerned with what we look like. Honestly. I don’t think anyone lying on their death bed is thinking, I am so glad I worried about what other people thought of me at the beach. With all the crazy out there, do you want die without living? I know I don’t.
For me it is simple. I like the food I like. I am not going to stop eating it. I loathe exercise – I am not going to kill myself in a gym. What I am going to do is enjoy an ice cream sandwich with my son. What I am going to do is go the beach. What I am going to do or should I say try to do is embrace the fact that I too could have a killer body if I was willing to work at it. I am not, therefore this is who I am. We should all embrace that and stop filling our minds with body hate. I know you are not judging me and I sure the Hell am not judging you!!
Now – I am off to the beach…whose with me!?