So this week I got in the pool.
. . .
Yesterday morning when I was running around frantically packing the pool bag before swim lessons Johnny grabbed my hand and stopped me in my tracks.
Why don’t you ever swim with us in the big pool, mom?
Good question, sweet child of mine. Good question.
In my head I have a million reasons.
Because I need to shave my legs. Because my boobs are a 36L, as in long. Because I can’t find a good one-piece swimsuit made for a tall person so I wear a two-piece–and I really shouldn’t wear a two-piece. Because everyone will see I have stretch marks and a mom pooch and my butt is bigger than it used to be.
Oh Angie, stop. Please stop.
I didn’t say any of that. I told him I didn’t know he wanted me to swim with them in the big pool.
And I put my swimsuit on.
. . .
I don’t love myself as much as I should. And I worry way too much about what other people think or say–or rather what I *think* they are thinking or saying.
It’s just who I am and how my brain works. And you don’t have to beat me up about it. I already beat myself up about it all the time–and then I beat myself up for beating myself up. Ugh.
But I don’t think I’m alone. Actually I know I’m not.
I’ve nodded my head along to all those articles about how moms should just put on their swimsuits and get in the pool or the game or the picture or whatever–we all have. Because it’s easy to nod your head and shout YES while you’re reading those articles. But it’s a whole other kind of hard to put your money where your mouth is–or your swimsuit over your long boobs–and dive in.
I’m not going to tell you to put on your bikini and get in the water with me. I’m not going to tell you what you’re missing by sitting on the sidelines or staying out of the picture. You’ve already read enough articles like that–and you know.
I am going to tell you I get it. I feel you. I do. Sometimes diving in is just too hard.
I think we could all be a little easier on ourselves–a little kinder to ourselves. We could try a little harder to love ourselves like we love our people. We could all try a little harder to replace some of our negative self-talk with some positive.
And we can stop beating ourselves up for beating ourselves up. One round of that shit is tough enough. Right? Right.
I think I can handle that. And you probably could too.
. . .
So this week I got in the pool. Damn it.
My kids were happy–and I was happy. And nobody thought or said anything about anything. Not a thing.
How about that.
Oh and that negative self-talk? It was still there–I’m not going to tell you it stopped with one quick dip. Ha. But I heard less and less of it with every splash.
Happy Summer, friends. I’m working on loving myself as much as I love these guys–and all of you. XOXO.