Life's a Beach!
So, yes, we went to the beach this past weekend. And it was glorious. But let me get one thing straight--I considered not going with the rest of the family. And admittedly, it was due to the way I look in a swim suit.
I could go on and on about how I just had a baby 11 months ago, or how work has been pretty stressful and unimaginably busy, or the fact that I have wanted to give up soda for an entire year but just haven't because my will power is akin to that of a child reaching for candy (impossible to break)--but instead it is what it is.
I have cottage cheese thighs that rub together when I wear a skirt. A chest that falls out of any normal low cleavage shirt, and rolls that almost always tend to fall over the waistline of my pants. My swimsuit likely cinches me in ways that aren't right and that don't look so hot. But should I deprive my kids of the fun loving mom that I am? Hell no. The beach, my husband, and my 2 kids were ready to head to the sun and sand... and I decided to high tail it behind them. It is my summer (and their childhood memories) too!
I remember summer camping trips as a kid where my mom layered herself in wraps and swim suit cover ups for the very reason I considered not join in on the summer fun. She avoiding trips into the water to save her hair or make up. She said she enjoyed the feeling of the sun and the good book that was by her side. As the Blanket Watcher--book and soda in hand she watched us all splash up a bunch of fun. Did she just not like water? Maybe. Was swimming not her thing? Not as much as it was to a bunch of kids. But, maybe, like me, not wanting to put her body on display.
She wasn't overweight. She wasn't embarrassing. And by all means, she was my mom. And I would have much rather had her in the water splashing, swimming, giggling, and having good time with us in the sun than sitting on the blanket. No matter what she felt about herself. But, I do recognize her behavior now as something akin to my own. Especially because, for more than a few minutes (almost an hour), I made up excuses in my head for why I wasn't going to be headed to the beach with my son and husband: I had to stay home with the baby! Oh look at me, I can't head to the beach like this! The swimsuitness isn't quite fitting me right still! It's too hot! It's not my thing today! My time of month (never mind I'm still nursing. Which means... oh you get the idea)! I had the excuses lined up by the mile--until....
My son looked up at me and asked when we were leaving. Because, I couldn't move fast enough for this afternoon of fun. And he needed sunscreen. And who was going to put some on his back and the scar near his right eyebrow (Dad apparently, doesn't do it well enough)? Or who's back would he swim on when Dad went for a small swim without him. Or just have a ton of fun with a beach ball he wanted to buy. Or say, teach him how to float on his back without freaking out? Any good mom would do that right?
Or at least a mom that could throw her own low self-image issues aside to have a fun day at the beach with her family? Because, as experience shows, he's not going to remember me as being the overweight one. I'd have been the one in the water having a good time with him.
I could go on and on about how I just had a baby 11 months ago, or how work has been pretty stressful and unimaginably busy, or the fact that I have wanted to give up soda for an entire year but just haven't because my will power is akin to that of a child reaching for candy (impossible to break)--but instead it is what it is.
I have cottage cheese thighs that rub together when I wear a skirt. A chest that falls out of any normal low cleavage shirt, and rolls that almost always tend to fall over the waistline of my pants. My swimsuit likely cinches me in ways that aren't right and that don't look so hot. But should I deprive my kids of the fun loving mom that I am? Hell no. The beach, my husband, and my 2 kids were ready to head to the sun and sand... and I decided to high tail it behind them. It is my summer (and their childhood memories) too!
I remember summer camping trips as a kid where my mom layered herself in wraps and swim suit cover ups for the very reason I considered not join in on the summer fun. She avoiding trips into the water to save her hair or make up. She said she enjoyed the feeling of the sun and the good book that was by her side. As the Blanket Watcher--book and soda in hand she watched us all splash up a bunch of fun. Did she just not like water? Maybe. Was swimming not her thing? Not as much as it was to a bunch of kids. But, maybe, like me, not wanting to put her body on display.
She wasn't overweight. She wasn't embarrassing. And by all means, she was my mom. And I would have much rather had her in the water splashing, swimming, giggling, and having good time with us in the sun than sitting on the blanket. No matter what she felt about herself. But, I do recognize her behavior now as something akin to my own. Especially because, for more than a few minutes (almost an hour), I made up excuses in my head for why I wasn't going to be headed to the beach with my son and husband: I had to stay home with the baby! Oh look at me, I can't head to the beach like this! The swimsuitness isn't quite fitting me right still! It's too hot! It's not my thing today! My time of month (never mind I'm still nursing. Which means... oh you get the idea)! I had the excuses lined up by the mile--until....
My son looked up at me and asked when we were leaving. Because, I couldn't move fast enough for this afternoon of fun. And he needed sunscreen. And who was going to put some on his back and the scar near his right eyebrow (Dad apparently, doesn't do it well enough)? Or who's back would he swim on when Dad went for a small swim without him. Or just have a ton of fun with a beach ball he wanted to buy. Or say, teach him how to float on his back without freaking out? Any good mom would do that right?
Or at least a mom that could throw her own low self-image issues aside to have a fun day at the beach with her family? Because, as experience shows, he's not going to remember me as being the overweight one. I'd have been the one in the water having a good time with him.
Labels: life, me, motherhood, weight
