The fam and I made our annual trek to the beach last week, and the weather, unlike last year’s chilly and windy BS, was glorious. The kids had a blast splashing in the surf, digging to China, and eating snacks covered in sand. The grown-ups enjoyed a few too many adult beverages and laughed until our sides hurt. One of us may have taken a little nap face down in her beach blanket, but there are no pictures to prove it.
When I wasn’t taste-testing my brother’s newest cocktail concoction (rainbow sherbet vodka, I’m not kidding), I was people-watching. I observed the parents who were flustered, running after their toddlers; the toddlers who were flustered, running from their parents. But mostly, I kept my eye on these sexy mamas who looked like they owned the place. They strutted around in their bright-colored two-pieces, sly smiles on their faces, hair pulled back in a messy saltwater bun. They were like celebrities, only better because they weren’t assholes.
I couldn’t stop staring at these ladies. Not because they had legs for days or abs of steel; these women actually looked a lot like me: soft bellies and a jiggle to their wiggle. They wore their stretch marks proudly, didn’t flinch from the camera or spend the next 15 minutes on their iPhone furiously cropping out their behind from the photo. As I watched these women with the stalker-ish abilities afforded only by my dark sunglasses, I noticed it wasn’t the cut of their suit or the color of the cover-up that made them so appealing; it was their confidence and it looked damn good.
Try as I might, I can’t find a store where they sell that stuff. I’ve browsed the petite section at various department stores where I used to buy a lot of my work clothes, but no dice. Silly me thought a younger, hipper store might have it in stock, but American Eagle and H&M were all out, too. So where in the world were those beach babes finding this elusive confidence?
I’ve always had a hard time looking at my body in a positive light. I think it started when I was in elementary school and a competitive gymnast. I had muscles while the other girls my age had skin and bones. Once, at a picnic with my best friend’s family, her cousin started calling me fat. She commented on my thighs in particular, said they were as big as tree trunks. My best friend, that turncoat, giggled along with the rest of the girls. I felt the tears stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them see me cry. I wandered off by myself and sat on a grassy patch underneath an ancient oak tree whose trunk rivaled my thighs, and bawled.
I’ll never forget how I sobbed that day, or how I had to gulp for air to catch my breath, my face puffy and swollen with tears and shame. I had never been called fat before that day, but I have believed it every day after. I went home and began to scrutinize every inch of my body. And I haven’t stopped.
Maybe that’s why pregnancy agrees with me so much; there’s no focus on “fat,” only on baby. Now that my body is no longer growing humans, I’ve begun the self-deprecating scrutiny again.
Then I look at the moms on the beach who have the same post-baby bodies as I, but they’re not wrapping themselves in a towel, all self-conscious about their protruding pouches. They’re running and playing and actually enjoying themselves, free from self-restraint wreaked from incessant insecurities. I want to do that. I want to be those ladies. How do I do that?
Being confident in my body, especially my forever changed post-baby body, will take time and effort, but I’m really going to try. If only to have another mother at the beach look at me from behind her dark shades and think, “Wow, she’s really comfortable in her skin, and I want to be, too.” Paying it forward, one jiggly ass cheek at a time, that’s just how I roll.
Steph, you are gorgeous! I’m going to back you up on the confidence. When I turned 30, I kept asking where that love for your body you’re supposed to get in your thirties was. Somewhere after I had Declan, I found it. I’m totally rockin the bikini this year! I hope you can find your confidence.
You’re incredibly kind, Danielle. I’d like you to please follow me around and just throw compliments at me all day, k? 😉 Rock that bikini, Mama!
I’m so gonna try for this level of confidence… in a few months. My daughter is three months old so I think I can wait a bit before pulling out the bikini. My butt’s lookin’ alright in my jeans, though, if I do say so myself.
I just stalked your 3mo and OHMYGOODNESS she’s a beauty! Her older brother is a looker, too! Rock that tight ass and give those cuties snuggles from me! By “those cuties,” I’m talking about about your kids, not your ass cheeks. You know that, right?! 🙂
Do you really thnk anyone is lookng at you when you have kids running around you. They Are looking at the kids. We women need to get over ourselves and move on to something way more important than if we jiggle. Rock the bod you got and if stop judging the other ladies than maybe we can all move onto another issue. I do know how you feel but I am doing the do what I say not what I think thing here, think it will work? Me neither but it is worth a try.
I don’t care who’s looking at me; I care how I feel about me. I’d love to rock the bod, but I’m struggling to do just that. That was kinda the point of this post.
Sometimes I feel awkward those first few minutes at the beach or pool. But then I try to focus on the fact that I’m there to have fun with my kid, not to impress some jerk I’ll never see again. If that doesn’t work, I just look for someone who looks worse than me, and focus on them, instead. 😉
HA!!!!!!! I’m only trying to impress myself at this point, and I think my standards are a little too high!
I’m proud to say that I too have found that confidence!! I love how comfortable I am to wear t-shirts with my pouch sticking out in my post baby body!
However, I got it in an unconventional way. It was the judgmental comments after my baby that made me see that no matter how thin, flabby, or “right” I look to one person, another person is going to think that I don’t look “right”.
So I said the hell with it.
You can’t please everyone.
Do what makes you comfortable.
Love this! I’m headed to the beach and I brought a bikini for the first time since I became a mom. I finally was like, screw it! I am what I am and I’m going to rock my bikini stretch marks and saggy belly skin and all.
I’m not a confident beach babe myself, so I can’t help you there. But I’m sure the two of us could have a lot of fun there 🙂 What was that, a rainbow cocktail?
I spent the better part of the past month wearing swimwear and the 20 extra lbs I’m rocking this year. I love how comfortable I felt, and I think I’ve finally embraced the truth that I don’t have to be ashamed if I’m not at my goal weight.
Steph, I know you didn’t write this looking for compliments, and that offering them is missing the point of the post, but I can’t help myself. You are gorgeous. Not only because of who you are, but also because of how you look. I hate that a bitchy little girl 20 years ago kicked off decades of self-loathing. You are strong, and smart, and you have beautiful hair, and an adorable, pocket-sized body. True story.
Good for you, Amy! I’m working to get there; I think it’ll come in time. And you’re right that I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I’ll take those any day of the week! THANK YOU xo (I do have good hair)
Loved this! I also have a hard time strutting around the beach confidently. Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself to be a pretty confident woman in most situations…but something about parading my flabby body all over the beach, screaming for my kids who are too deep in the water, and seeing super skinny, super moms, puts my own confidence in the dumps!
Thanks so much for linking up with #BlogDiggity today! Hope to see you again next week!
Thanks for the invite, pal! xo