Currently, I own four bathing suits.
Six years ago, I didn’t own any, and I wouldn’t have been caught dead,
let alone by a camera, in a bathing suit or any other outfit that would have
shown my arms or my legs above my knees.
I carefully avoided too short sleeves or anything more revealing than
capri pants.
After years of having the Jell-O theme song jokingly sung to me, “Watch
it wiggle, see it jiggle,” and being physically shunned and rejected as well as
being told I was no longer attractive or desirable, I fully believed and
embraced the lie. That I was competing
with the unrealistic plots and images from a lifelong pornography addiction
never even occurred to me at the time.
Long after I left that emotionally abusive marriage, I’d walk past a
mirror and the Jell-O song would run through my head.
In the eleven month divorce process following my departure, I’d walk 3-5
miles every day to deal with the ongoing anxiety that occasionally caused me
panic attacks while grocery shopping and running errands around town. It’s no wonder that I became a P!nk fan as I
walked the path across the street from my apartment. Some of her lyrics were pretty therapeutic. Like this bit from “Perfect”:
“You’re so mean,
when you talk. About yourself. You are wrong. Change the voices in
your head. Make them like you instead.”
The counselor in me recognized the truth of the words and repeated them
like a mantra, but the broken spirited me latched on to them and sang them
loudly, claiming them as my new anthem.
Much healing happened walking that path.
I began to drop some weight, both pounds and baggage.
I also started spending time at the neighborhood pool with my friend
Kim, who let me borrow a bathing suit. It
was scary at first. But I kept going.
Over the years, as my self-confidence had tanked, I’d come to hate
pictures and avoided being in them whenever I could. But that year several things changed. For one, I got an IPhone the day after I
left. It was a defiance of the strict “No
texting” and “No Apple products” rules. And
I now had a camera in hand at all times.
Second, I got stuck in the airport and had a profound conversation with
a random stranger. The gist of what I
learned from her was this: Rock what you’ve
got.
Third, I began to visit my brothers and their kids more
frequently. Prior to leaving, my visits
were very limited. The emotional price I
paid for those visits was extremely high, so they didn’t happen often. But as I spent more time with my nieces and
nephews, I decided that the time was too precious, too sacred, not to be
documented. I determined that regardless
of how I might look or feel about myself, I would not only have lots of
pictures OF my family, but I would have lots of pictures WITH my family.
Shortly before moving to Houston, I went shopping for clothes with a
very stylish friend. I asked for her
help as I transitioned from baggy, frumpy clothes to things that fit and
flattered. My self-image had begun to
change. And after I moved to Houston, I finally
bought a bathing suit of my own.
Fast forward a couple of years through further healing and forgiving of
both myself and others, and I began dating.
Scary. Dating in my twenties wasn’t
nearly as daunting as dating as a 30-something divorcee.
On July 12, 2013, I snapped a very silly selfie on my way out the door
to a pool party with my counselor team.
In our selfie culture, it might not seem like a big deal, but looking at
this picture, knowing what I do of my own life, it is fairly significant. It was a supremely confident moment. In a bathing suit. Posted on Facebook.
It was also the same day I had my first date with Matt. We talked for FOUR HOURS over dinner. Talk about a good sign. Who knew I’d marry him a year later?
My first bathing suit had become worn and too big, so as I planned and
packed for our honeymoon cruise, I bought two new suits. In fact, nearly every outfit I packed for
that trip was either strapless or sleeveless.
I couldn’t wait for Matt to see them all.
I dressed with confidence. And I
never heard the Jell-O song.
Quite the opposite. Matt was
forever stopping me to take my picture. He
wanted a record of all of my firsts and big moments. Scuba diving.
Moonlight on the deck. He loved
taking my picture. It was a wonder to
me. And I loved it.
On our first anniversary, we went to New York City. I knew it would be crazy hot and we would
walk a million miles. So I packed tank
tops. I didn’t even own a tank top until
a couple of years ago. I’ve never been a
big fan of my arms, but somewhere in there, as I’ve become confident in my own
skin, I decided being cool and comfortable was far more important than my arm
insecurities.
Because of our frequent visits to the neighborhood pool and going to
water aerobics with my mom, I purchased another bathing suit, one piece, much
better for actual swimming.
I went on a girl’s trip with my best friend at the end of the school
year to a resort in Phoenix. I knew we
would spend much of the time poolside, so I bought another one piece suit.
With that last suit purchase, it hit me. I now own FOUR bathing suits. And tank tops in all of the colors of the
rainbow. And shorts. And I take pictures
in them. And post them on Facebook. And I very seldom think about Jell-O unless I’m
trying a new recipe.
I have not become a supermodel.
I have not gotten skinny. Though
I am more active and in better shape than I have probably ever been in my adult
life.
But I HAVE had an extreme makeover.
In my head. And the voices have
changed.
Life is short, wear a bathing suit.
Don’t run from the camera, stop and smile. Don’t obsess about your imperfections, rock
what you’ve got. And don’t
sing about Jell-O, eat it. With Cool
Whip on top!
