Making Memories Trump My Body Insecurities...
/As I stare outside sun blazing down I think to myself, The pool would feel so good right now and my son would have a blast. There is a community pool where I live and there is always at least 5 or more people there swimming, laying out, having chicken fights. I think to myself I should be excited to go swim with my son, watching his face light up with delight as he enters the pool, but the thoughts that overcome me is how will I manage to cover my stretch marks, my cellulite, and my flab from the five or so people who will be there? How can I manage to be in sync with my son while also making sure that either the pool water has my body covered , my cover up dress, or towel.
“Are you going to get in the pool mommy? Please come swim with me?” The answer that comes out is, “Maybe in a little bit bud, mommy wants to soak in some sun first.” What I'm really doing is trying to mustard up the courage to uncover myself with the layers I have covered myself with and all I'm thinking is I wish these people would turn the other direction or leave so that I could sneak inside the pool to be with my son before they spot my flabby legs that rub together.
All my son wants is to play in the water with me. I want that as well, but why do the thoughts of my insecurity about my weight take over? Why do I consume myself with anxiety of other people spotting my flaws?
My neighbor looks my way and says, “You should get it the water it's nice.” I give a smile and say, “ I bet!” But what I'm really thinking is , “If you only knew how much I wanted to be in there right now, but you just won't look in the other direction.”
My son so desperate for someone to play with joins in with another mom and her kid playing Marco Polo. As I sit and watch from the lawn chair I see my son having the best time, having a blast actually while I was watching from the outside. My son is making memories with some neighbors he barely knows when I should be the one in there soaking it all in.
I'm sick of these self loathing thoughts, why do I care what people I barely even know think about the flab on my legs and stretch marks on my belly? Why am I so ashamed of the body that once carried life and sustained life as well? This is stupid my son needs me to stop wallowing in self loathing pity and be the mom he needs me to be. I can pity myself another day, but right now he needs me to be the carefree fun-loving mom that throws off that towel and cover up to get in that nice cold water and play with my son and be present in the moment.