Tuesday, June 20, 2017

A work in progress

I probably should have taken a few shots of jack before heading to the mall to try on swim suits. I have a swim suit. It is a one piece. Every single time I put it on I cringe. I am not a one piece person. My mind anyways, my body definitely screams to cover that shit up with a one piece.

I took 7 swimsuits into the dressing room. One of these has to look right on my body. Every single one I tried on reminded me of the all the fudge striped cookies I had consumed over the last 8 months. Every single bite. Shit. What have I done?  Every single emotional eating tirade that had taken place since the last time it was swim suit shopping season.  It also showed how my stomach grew and grew and grew and grew three separate times, with the last kid taking a huge toll on my mid section.  I started sending pictures to my husband...this one? This one? How about this one? Of course he liked them all, and then picked the only one piece I had taken into the dressing room with me.

Hmm. Little shit. Does he not like my bikini body? I birthed his children and he is about half of the reasons for my fudged striped cookie emotional eating tirades. He said I like that one piece, but I really do like the one you already have. What. Is this a ploy to not get me to spend money or do you really like that one that makes me feel like I am wearing a garbage bag at the pool?

I never really gave much thought to the way I looked or dressed. My mom purchased all of my outfits growing up, I had a set amount and that is what I wore. When I was around 20 years old I went shopping. I bought myself a pair of tighter jeans and a camo top. I sat in my parents basement and did my hair and put makeup on for one of the first times. I remember coming upstairs and my sister called me beautiful. That has stuck with me all these years, as it was a turning point for me. I loved fashion!

For about 8 years of my life I allowed someone to shame my body daily. That is not something that is easy to overcome.

My husband has since built my self esteem back up to a decent level....which brings me to that moment in the dressing room. Swimsuits strung all around, the taste of that bite of Ben and Jerry's I had earlier still lingering on my thighs...this body is the one I currently have. Do I really want to give up my cookie addiction? No. I have to somehow learn to love the body that I have, the one that did carry three children, the one that has had a child pass away inside of it...the body that has carried me through the death of my dad, years of abuse, gotten me through intense labor and deliveries, that one that gets up every single morning and keeps three kids alive and a husband.  I should love it, and it shouldn't matter what strangers think of me and my body. So I bought a two piece, and I plan to wear it at least once this summer. Maybe. Lord knows, I am still a work in progress.

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