Things That Are True - Body Issues

HWSNBN, The Imp and I are, for the first time, taking a warm weather holiday together. Well, technically the second time, but the first time The Imp was merely a five-months bump.

When he looked like this...

...and I looked like that.

We're going to Hawaii.

Soon.*

The trip is far enough away that I still entertain fantasies of dropping a couple of pounds before I have to debut my fish-white winter flesh in public, but soon enough that there's no chance that's actually going to happen. I'd pretty much have to go all starlet during Oscar week and stop eating entirely from now until the moment of departure.

So that's a no then.

I'm mostly confident about my body. It's pretty healthy; it works well most of the time. But it looks its age - it looks like it's grown and nourished a child. I usually manage to avoid the trap of comparing my appearance to photoshopped magazines and too-perfect actresses. And then...

Then I had to go bathing suit shopping. I haven't bought a bathing suit since shortly after The Imp was born and I felt like Audrey Hepburn just because I could see my ankles. I had a low threshold for thinness then; now my ego demands more.

That was two days ago. I'm still feeling fat and frumpy. Nothing like the horrible lighting of those places (seriously, why?) to highlight every lunar-crater bump of cellulite on parts of my body I don't usually look at. Today I look in the mirror and see all the jiggly bits and none of the strength and ability. I'm suddenly looking at fake tans as if they're Something I Should Do, which: WTF? I'll likely be making serious investments in a sarong or five before I hit the beach.

Yes, because an ambulatory tent and awning is so slimming.

Gah.

Enough. Enough of this. Enough hating the body I live in. HWSNBN doesn't hate it, why should I?

Dammit, I hereby declare that I will walk the beaches of Oahu with pride in the body that's gotten me this far. I will run through the waves with The Imp ignoring the bits that jiggle in favour of celebrating my boy's joy in the sand squishing under his toes. I will stand next to my prettier, thinner (and, it should be said, 12 years younger) cousin for photos and give a real smile to the camera.

But is it okay if I suck in my stomach a little bit at the same time?

I happened upon this on the beach at English Bay a few weeks ago. Making it the motto of my trip.

*And no, I'm not posting dates here on the interweb. And yes, I have people staying in my home while we're away. Burly, strong people. People with a big, surly dog. And mixed martial arts training. And x-ray vision, and connections at the Pentagon. And they will water my plants while I'm gone. Win!