Bikini Conundrum

As I stood in front of the mirror in a bathing suit that was not black... I battled with myself.

I looked at every dimple, I scrutinized every single stretch mark. Oh yeah, I haven't even been pregnant and I have stretch marks from my weight gain. I took selfies on a mirror, front, side, other side and back... I ran downstairs and took another set of pics because the lighting would be different. And in the end... I just said fuck it. I don't care. I wore it.

Then came time to take off the clothes over it, aye.. and there it went again. My self doubt, wore a shirt over it, then took it off, and thought just do it. And then there it was, a picture, I felt so proud for taking it. And then the shirt went back on again. Once in the water, off it went again. Hidden in my tube. As soon as I was out of the water I put the shirt on again. And this was after a few drinks, it was an internal self love battle. I KNOW how hard I have worked. I KNOW what I have given up... I KNOW how far I have come, but others don't. Fear of judgment is so wicked, it's a sickening sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

I went to the bathroom changed into dry clothes and all was alright with the world again. Then I looked at the pic, and then I posted it. I DID IT. I put myself out there. I had to. It was a bit of redemption for me,

because I work for that body, because that body works for me. EVERY DAY it gets me to where I need to, it jumps a bit higher for me, it pushes out one more rep, I'm a work in progress, and that is ok.

I'll get to where I want to be eventually, and if I don't... I still love who I am, my husband loves who I am, my family loves me for who I am... so why get tied up in knots over a dimple, over a stretch mark.

That girl in the mirror deserves better, I don't let her eat cookies as often as she'd like ;)