The first time I donned a bikini at the beach after my diagnosis, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I was already under scrutiny for every bite I took and for checking my blood sugar levels. People often remarked that they could “never” imagine giving themselves an injection, and the sight of blood made them squeamish. It seemed like every meal was met with a probing question about whether I could “eat that.” I was convinced my condition would be on public display—open to judgment—while I tried to enjoy the beach or pool.
The alternative was to skip the beach, wear a full-coverage suit with a hidden pocket for my insulin pump, or cover up my bikini with a sarong. None of those options felt right. So, I mustered my courage and joined my family at the shore, insulin pump tubing visible at my hip. Sure, I caught a few sideways glances and fielded some questions, but I felt liberated by not hiding who I truly am. Fast forward fifteen years, and I’ve come to realize that a joyful summer is for everyone, including those of us with disabilities.
I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in my early adulthood. I spent over a year feeling unwell, losing thirty pounds, and grappling with constant fatigue and insatiable thirst. It all spiraled after contracting a virus, and despite numerous consultations with various medical professionals, I wasn’t properly diagnosed until I was nearly in crisis at the emergency room.
Receiving a diagnosis of a lifelong autoimmune disease is a significant turning point, especially with the overwhelming amount of information that comes with it. Type 1 diabetes is serious—it’s a matter of life and death. Given that my body doesn’t produce insulin, I have to manage it through injections or an insulin pump. I also test my blood sugar multiple times daily and meticulously track my carbohydrate intake. It can be a lot to handle.
Thankfully, diabetes technology and education have advanced significantly since my diagnosis. While I still encounter people sharing their grim diabetes tales or implying that I must have the “bad type of diabetes,” I’ve cultivated a strong sense of resilience. When someone mentions their grandma’s unfortunate foot amputation, I simply let it go. If I focused on every comment, I would be miserable.
There’s no hiding type 1 diabetes for long; I administer insulin multiple times a day from my pump, which I wear almost constantly except when showering or swimming. My equipment is often visible when I wear a swimsuit, and that’s just part of my reality.
I no longer fret about others’ opinions regarding my insulin pump clipped to the outside of my clothing, whether it’s on my shorts or swimsuit. I’ve also embraced my stretch marks and mastectomy scars. Worrying takes energy that’s better spent savoring life’s moments.
Despite societal messages to the contrary, there are no prerequisites for enjoying the beach, pool, or any summer activity. Whether your “flaws” are medical equipment or physical characteristics, you deserve to have fun. After all, perfection doesn’t exist.
We all face body image issues to some extent. Whether it’s something hurtful said in our youth, negative media influences, or a comment from a healthcare provider, these thoughts linger. Yet, those of us with visible medical gear or differences in ability often endure even more scrutiny.
Imagine if we all chose to show up authentically, dressed in what makes us comfortable. We could redefine pool time as just that—an opportunity to relax and enjoy, not a runway or a magazine shoot. By embracing our true selves, we can promote the idea that it’s perfectly fine to just be.
Moreover, it’s summer! The heat makes it impractical to layer on extra fabric to hide what we might not love about our bodies. I believe people are more focused on their own insecurities than on judging others.
In fact, when I see someone confidently sporting their medical gear, I want to celebrate them. Whether it’s an ileostomy bag, mobility aid, or insulin pump, I want to give them a high five for their bravery. Being open about our medical needs takes courage, and it can be challenging to navigate that spotlight.
I realized I had a choice: I could either dwell on others’ judgments or focus my energy on enjoying time with my family at the beach. It took practice—showing up repeatedly with my diabetic gear visible—before I could fully immerse myself in the joy of the moment. To use a cliché, practice makes perfect—or at least better.
I refuse to hide to make others feel comfortable. My only rules are that I need to access my pump and protect it from the heat while wearing a swimsuit I enjoy. That’s it. My summer of joy is in full swing—and I hope yours is too!
For more insights, check out this post for related topics, and if you’re looking for authoritative information, this resource is excellent. The NHS also provides valuable details on insemination options.
Summary:
This article emphasizes the importance of embracing one’s true self, particularly for individuals with disabilities during summer activities. The author shares their personal journey with type 1 diabetes, illustrating how they overcame societal judgments to enjoy life fully. The message advocates for authenticity and confidence, encouraging all individuals to participate in summer fun without the need to hide their differences.