Bikini Body

 

Bikini Body

            This year I turn 30 years old.  I am a mother of three beautiful children and a wife to a wonderful husband.  This year I bought a bikini.  Every year my family goes on vacation to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Ever since my son was born I have worn a one-piece bathing suit or a tankini, even though I find them uncomfortable and it is nearly impossible to find a full coverage bathing suit that doesn’t make me look like I am under 50.   

The truth is: I have horrible stretch marks.  

 I slathered on every advertised cream, drank tons of water, and watched my weight with my first pregnancy, but genetics can be stronger than will-power.  I was left with a beautiful baby boy and a completely scarred stomach.  Oh, how I cried when those first stretch marks appeared, somewhere in my 8^th month of pregnancy, and were quickly followed by many, many more.  I thought I was ruined.

            Now that I think back to my pre-pregnancy body I realize I was never satisfied with it either.  I was never skinny enough.  There was always some flaw I was desperate to be rid of.  If I had that body now I would be in 7^th heaven.  I guess that is the curse of youth.  Some time, a couple of months ago, I was looking in the mirror and I thought to myself, “This is the best you are going to look.  You might as well enjoy it.” So I decided to buy myself a bikini.   There are some that are likely to be horrified.  I certainly don’t look like a super model… or maybe I do.  Check out these pictures of “real” moms Cindy Crawford and Julia Roberts.  I am certainly not implying that moms without stretch marks  are not real… they are just very, very lucky.

Julia Roberts

 Cindy Crawford

Here are some pictures of me in a bathing suit.  The first one at the top of the post is from me when I was 15.  I was 19 in the picture directly below. The third was taken on my honeymoon when I was 22, and the fourth was taken the summer before I was married.  I am five months pregnant in the last at 27.

I remember being very upset for this picture, both before and after it was taken.  I thought that I looked fat.  I was convinced there were “rolls” on my stomach.

This picture was taken in Antigua on my honeymoon.  I did not let my husband take many pictures of me, but in this one I made sure that I had a sarong over the “fat parts”.  I wish I had known how lucky I was then.

In this picture I am 5 months pregnant with my 2^nd child.  I was pretty comfortable and confident in this bathing suit.   I wish I could have bottled that confidence for after my daughter was born.

I don’t write this as a pity party for me… more as an awakening that I am finally growing up and into my skin, literally.  I will be worried that someone is judging me, but at the same time I am proud of myself.  Now I won’t look back when I am 90 and wish that I had appreciated my 30 year old self.  30, consider yourself appreciated! FYI I will add a picture once I have a tan and a bikini I love.

Out of the mouths of babes...

    Last year I was pregnant with Lily and watching three kids in addition to my two children, all under the age of 5.  Somehow, only having four children at my house is even more exhausting.   Grace and the little girl I watch are both two, and I thought it would be easier to take care of two 2 year olds rather than two babies.  Instead, they seem to be getting more difficult.  Both little girls are still under two and a half, but they are both potty trained.  Logically one would think that this would be easier than having children in diapers, but it is actually harder.  Both girls go potty every 15 to 20minutes.  This involves toilet paper, dumping, wiping, hand washing, and sometimes shrieking if they touch each other.  During this process, my youngest, Lily, is determined to get in the bathroom and participate in the action.  At nine months she can already throw toys in the toilet.

    There is nothing cuter than little girls singing.  A few days ago, while we were waiting for a prescription for Grace (which is another story in itself), I encouraged the girls to sing.  Grace was trying to touch the little girl I watch, and she was trying to bite Grace.  Grace sweetly started,
“Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, go to sleep little…. (devilish grin) poop,
you’re my baby, you’re my baby, you’re my sweet poopy poop…”

These are obviously not the correct words to the song.  The fact that my “not-yet-two-and-a-half” year old can replace words in a song with ones she knows are inappropriate is just beyond me.  Today at a play-date she told me she had to go potty, and since she wore a ridiculous frilly pink dress she needed extra help.  I followed her out of the room where the moms were talking and she stopped and headed towards the kitchen.  She did not, in fact, need to use the bathroom, but wanted a snack and knew that I would get up immediately for a potty emergency, but probably not for a snack request.

    Ford is really not to be outdone by his little sister.  A “bad Ford” keeps coming in the house and doing naughty things.  He also told me before we went to a fundraiser, “Looks like somebody is going to have another baby.”  I am not pregnant, and actually thought I was looking pretty good.  I told him that it wasn’t polite to tell a woman that.
“Do you know why Ford?”
“Yeah, because then the lady thinks that she looks fat.”
“So…”
“Mommy, you look a little fat.”

Gotta love those kids…