A friend shared this article on Facebook and when I read it, I was like "Hey, they are talking about me!". The title of the article is - Moms, Put On That Swimsuit.
Usually when we take the boys to the pool, I will be fully clothed (t-shirt and shorts) rather than wearing my swimsuit (best example.. refer to my last post. Instead of getting into the pool with the boys, I was lounging by the poolside with Hershey). Instead of jumping in and splashing around with them, I will be sitting by the poolside, dipping only my legs into the water and watching enviously as father and sons frolic around happily. Why? It's certainly not because I am afraid of getting tanned or adding even more freckles to my face, but rather, I am self conscious of my body. So because of my own insecurities, I am missing out on having a great time with my family. This is time that cannot be brought back, and I am creating memories for my kids... my boys will grow up thinking that it is 'normal' for mommy not to be in the pool with them simply because it has become a norm. I am missing out so much.
I am very motivated after reading this article, and I am saving it on my phone so that every time an insecurity comes up when I have to put on a swim suit, I will read this article and remind myself of what really matters most.
An extract from the article:
Your swimsuit does not define you.
That soft tummy you are trying to hide? Has stretched and grown life.
Those thighs that have long lost their gap? Gave you the strength to carry that beach ball for 9 months, then walk with life hanging on your hips for years after.
I refuse to miss my children’s high-pitched, pool-induced giggles because of my insecurities.
I refuse to let other women’s judging eyes at the pool prevent me from exposing my kids’ eyes to the wonder of the sun glittering on the water.
I refuse to let my self-image influence my children’s.
I refuse to sacrifice memories with my children because of a soft tummy.
The next time we are taking the boys to the pool, I am going IN there with them, making memories with my 34 inch (and growing) waist and wobbly thighs.