The other day, I was at the pool with my kids. I was naturally feeling very self-conscious, my concerns threefold: 1- That I looked like a beached whale, 2- That my bathing suit was somehow inappropriate for and offensive to the uber-conservative community pool, and 3- That my scars, over 80 of which are visible when I'm in swimwear, would call even more attention to me. My boys floated around on their own, not giving their old mom any mind whatsoever. My baby girl, all 26 lbs. of blonde hair and joy, was splashing at my side. Instead of relishing in the sweet heat of Summer, I was rehashing my pool worries, my brow furrowed.
Then I saw her. Across the pool was a tall woman of about 30, backstroking in the sun. She had on a black bikini, mature but stylish. She was at least four dress sizes bigger than me, but she looked stunning. I was caught completely off guard. How, when thinness is coveted and revered, could this woman look so gorgeous at her size? And in a bathing suit, no less? I couldn't help but stare. The black material hugged her body close, carressing her skin. Instead of angles, to which I have always aspired, she was full of curves. It occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, it was her attitude that was even more beautiful than her body. She was relaxed. She was confident. She was enjoying herself. In a swimsuit. How profound.
There I was, all thin and petrified, missing out on my children's fun. There she was, all full and wonderful, soaking up life. I learned something that day, and I hope I don't forget it.
Profound, indeed.
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