It’s pool season, people.
Whether I like it or not, the bathing suits are making their annual appearance. And as we get ready for swim season, can I just say one thing?
Moms, please stop wearing your bikinis. Okay? Just stop.
It will make me feel sooo much better. And it’s all about me isn’t it?
Yep. <– I just answered that for you. You’re welcome.
I’m the mom over there in the tankini (can you believe that is even a word?). I know you see me. I strategically conceal my muffin top behind my black tankini praying my kids don’t accidentally lift it up and expose the whiter than white gummy tummy I’ve tried to hide. I gave the one-piece-disguised-as-a-tankinin a try. Imagine squeezing a sausage into a casing a tad too small. Yeah, that.
Honestly, it isn’t about the weight thing. That, I have control of. Or not, depending on how you look at it. But really, whether a size 4 or size 14, I think you look great. You and your tiny two pieces of material ;)
The thing that just gets me is the fact that you are walking around with an unmarked stomach! How on God’s green earth did you manage to grow a baby or two or three and walk away unscathed? Not fair, my friends. Not fair at all.
I’ve been branded.
My skin was never supposed to stretch. I’m serious.
My senior year in high school I was trying on a halter top with a friend. She asked if my cat had scratched me. What? No. Why? She pointed to my chest. I looked down and saw the shiny purple stripes.
After waiting 18 years…I had finally “developed.” I was bra worthy. Though barely pushing an A cup, I had stretch marks! What?! My skin was never meant to grow. I’m convinced.
So imagine an almost 8 pound butter ball expanding my stomach to freakish proportions. Exactly.
Those first stretch marks thought they were all sneaky. Creeping on the underside of my belly where I couldn’t see. Then bam! They made their presence known…loud & clear. But they didn’t just stop there, they kept on going, past the button, on top of the belly, until finally… mercy. They were gracious enough to stop below the jug line. (You know it’s bad when you OB lifts up your shirt at your check-up and says “whoa.”)
My stomach will never see the light of day again.
It’s not that I’m dying to wear a bikini, it’s just that it would be nice to have the choice. I’d still stick with my tankini though (but that’s another post for another day).
Oh, and the only thing that is comforting in all this, is that God was kind enough to give my best friend some memorable stretch marks too. Like all over her stomach. The only difference is that mine are straight up and down, and hers are more like a bulls eye, right around her belly button. So yeah, there’s that.