Hi friends! It’s almost deep winter but I still know what I did last summer! That’s the last time I wrote and I just can’t let go — maybe I just need to live in a warmer climate? But I digress…
I had a wild season! Work drama, heartbreak, more work drama, mending the heartbreak, avoiding the gym, eating whatever the hell I wanted, and going to the beach. Pretty typical summertime fare, but this season was different. This season, I stuck to my beach-every-weekend promise to myself (save for one or two). This season I also went all in on something I had only reserved for kamikaze-shot-fueled weekend trips to Miami in my 20s: I wore a bikini. To the beach. More than once. In a color other than black. (Duh. Of course, I wore a black one too but I contain multitudes, people!) I laid out. I made the long walk from the sand to the water and I swam and floated and splashed and not a single thing happened other than my stomach FINALLY being the same color as my legs.
As a fat kid who grew up wearing shapeless sacks chosen by my mother because they were “flattering” and “didn’t stick to” my rolls, this was a monumental summer move. I finally figured out that I didn’t have to hide to enjoy myself. I didn’t have to make myself small for someone else’s comfort. I just allowed myself to exist and it was great. I noticed, for the first time, that other bodies on the beach were doing the same thing I was — playing, breathing, tanning and just enjoying the season. I am still carrying a bit of that comfort and warmth into the chill of winter and the rest of the seasons to come.
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