Updated: Dec. 19, 2015
Originally Published: Aug. 11, 2015
Would they notice the stretch marks that weave across my thighs? Those visible white lines, some small, others larger, tell the story of my body’s transformation—muscles once strong from high school athletics have softened into the shape of a mom who hits the gym every now and then.
What about the cellulite that rests between my thighs, hiding just beneath the edge of my bikini bottom? Or the not-so-flawless tummy, a mix of slightly toned abs paired with a C-section scar that marks my journey into motherhood? Would they judge the body of a mother who brought life into the world through surgery?
And what of my sun-kissed skin, burned and freckled in spots that have been hidden from the sun for far too long? Would my friends write comments urging sunblock or cover-ups, liked by others in our circle?
Some may scrutinize my tattoos—seven in total—scattered across my ribs and back. Would they see a mother lacking sound judgment and moral compass?
Would they recognize the self-doubt that sometimes clouds my reflection? The woman who once sprinted six-minute miles and powered through crunches with ease? Or would they see the resilient, protective mother ready to stand against any challenge? Would they perceive a confident woman who embraces her skin, scars, stretch marks, and all?
What would my friends truly see?
Today, I donned a bikini at the beach and shared a picture on social media. To my surprise, no one remarked on the stretch marks or the cellulite. The tattoos and sunburn went unnoticed too. Instead, my friends focused on the radiant smiles of my children, the unfiltered joy captured in our family photos, and the fun we shared under the Florida sun. That brings me immense pride—pride in the family I’ve nurtured and, importantly, pride in my body.
This body has never been more beautiful to me. It has given life, endured nearly three decades of sports, scars, and challenges. It has recovered from childbirth and surgeries, sleepless nights, and the demands of raising toddlers. I may not be a tiger, but I’ve certainly earned every stripe and stretch mark along the way.
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In summary, embracing our bodies, with all their stories and imperfections, is a powerful act of self-love. We should celebrate our journeys, recognizing that beauty comes in many forms.