Today was warm, meaning Spring might be on its way. Summer follows Spring. That means I'll want to go swimming and I'll need a swimsuit. This used to be a source of fun and excitement for me when my biggest question was how much money to spend on a tiny piece of spandex. Three summers ago, my swimsuit was my post-work outfit of choice. We painted our house that summer and a bikini was the obvious painting attire option. Get paint on your leg? It's just skin! Wash it off! The bikini was pink with green, tropical leaves. It had a triangle top and the front and back of the bottom were attached by small, wooden circles. Cars would honk at my bum as I stood on the ladder slapping paint onto the siding. I waved back with pride, not knowing that was the last time I would be able to see my upper-inner thighs just by looking down.
The next summer was equally fun because I was in my second trimester. I had a beautiful, growing belly and sported several styles of bikini. Before stretch marks and before kankles, I was a cute pregnant lady and figured there was no way to hide the belly so I might as well flaunt it.
Do you know that saying, "Shake what your momma gave you."? I'd like to change the phrase to, "Shake what being a momma gave you." I'd have to be provided with an unmarked, black briefcase filled with a large sum of cash to squeeze my fanny into a bikini this year. Last year I sported a one piece and in every photo all I see are thunder thighs and this weird, saggy bag hanging below my belly button. No amount of sit ups are going to flatten the bag of skin that prevents me from seeing below it. That sack of skin which rests like a little Jabba the Hut on my thighs when I sit on the toilet. What if I let it out into the sun and it sees its shadow like the ground hog? Surely, it would tell me to go back inside and hibernate. Six more YEARS of winter. I digress: I do not really want to wear a swimsuit for fear of sharing my lack of muscle tone and body image with the public. But, I love to swim and therefore the search is on to find the piece of spandex which will turn me into the MommaGoddess who lives inside of me.
Hmm- shall it be the tanikini or swimskirt? So many options.
The next summer was equally fun because I was in my second trimester. I had a beautiful, growing belly and sported several styles of bikini. Before stretch marks and before kankles, I was a cute pregnant lady and figured there was no way to hide the belly so I might as well flaunt it.
Do you know that saying, "Shake what your momma gave you."? I'd like to change the phrase to, "Shake what being a momma gave you." I'd have to be provided with an unmarked, black briefcase filled with a large sum of cash to squeeze my fanny into a bikini this year. Last year I sported a one piece and in every photo all I see are thunder thighs and this weird, saggy bag hanging below my belly button. No amount of sit ups are going to flatten the bag of skin that prevents me from seeing below it. That sack of skin which rests like a little Jabba the Hut on my thighs when I sit on the toilet. What if I let it out into the sun and it sees its shadow like the ground hog? Surely, it would tell me to go back inside and hibernate. Six more YEARS of winter. I digress: I do not really want to wear a swimsuit for fear of sharing my lack of muscle tone and body image with the public. But, I love to swim and therefore the search is on to find the piece of spandex which will turn me into the MommaGoddess who lives inside of me.
Hmm- shall it be the tanikini or swimskirt? So many options.
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