I've been visiting Topsail Island for as long as I can remember, it's become a home away from home through the years. I've spent hours sitting and marveling at God's handiwork, playing cards around the table with my papa, hunting for shells early in the morning on walks with my Troubles (Grandma), digging in the sand, splashing in the waves, and sadly, comparing myself to others on the beach.
When I was little I remember wearing my first two piece bathing suit, the "bikini" of my dreams. It was bright and tropical, and everything I'd ever wanted to wear! I've never been a small girl, so naturally I wasn't "small" then. I've always been a little (or sometimes a lot) on the "softer side." My thighs have always touched, my arms have always had a little jiggle, but at 7 years old, none of that even mattered. I wore that bikini with pride, never bothered by what others might think. I still played in the sand, swam my heart out, and experienced remarkable joy in my happy place, not limited in the slightest by my outward appearance.
Then somewhere along the way, a summer or two later, I no longer wanted to wear my beloved bikini. I noticed that I didn't look quite like the "typical" girl my age. I decided that I didn't have a body that fit my bikini, even though it technically fit me. For the first time I felt limited and confined by my body.Theodore Roosevelt may have said it best when he said " comparison is the theif of joy."
From that trip forward I spent many a summer agonizing over picking out a swimsuit. Wondering if the cut of one bathing suit made my belly look to flabby, or if another made me look like an old woman. I would stand in the mirror and pick myself apart, and no longer felt the same confidence and joy from an afternoon on the beach as I did that summer I spent in my "bikini."
Now I've found myself here, nearly thirty, on the same beaches of my childhood, with a family of my own. I still struggle with those little voices inside my head that tell me that I'm not thin enough, beautiful enough, or worthy enough to don a swimsuit for an afternoon at the beach, but now motherhood has gifted me the opportunity to see myself through a different lens.
I've realized that my kids don't care if my thighs touch, or if my arms aren't toned, or if some of my mommy tummy hangs over the top of my shorts.They care that I'm there with them, fully present in the moment with them, not worried about how my body looks compared to someone else's on the beach.
My husband doesn't look at me and see stretch marks and dimpled legs the way I do, he sees a complex individual that he loves flaws and all, for better or worse.
Motherhood has taught me that I am more than just an empty shell, and a bathing suit can't possibly reveal all of the deep intricacies that make me who I am.
This summer instead of being embarrassed by my stretch marks, I'm giving thanks that I have them. They serve as a reminder that my body has grown and changed to bring life in to the world three times. Instead of picking out flaws and criticizing a body that has brought me this far, I'm choosing to love the skin I'm in and treat myself to a measure of grace I deserve.
Is it hard to have a Momster bod on the beach?? Sometimes, but I've come to realize that this life is mine alone and I have a choice to make. Am I willing to let comparison be the theif of my joy? Or am I content with who I am in this moment? Am I more concerned about how I look, or about the precious memories I'm making with the ones I love the most?? This summer I'm choosing joy in each moment!
Join me momsters, get out there! Put on the swimsuit, look at yourself with grace, smile for the camera, make memories with your people, and love yourself without abandon!
When you do, you may just realize that these are the best days of our lives!
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