In nearly every single way last year's lockdown was a living nightmare. Being cooped up with a full time job an a rambunctious toddler is … not ideal. But when summer rolled around there was one highlight I quietly relished in: No public pooling.
During the summer of 2020, I ordered a huge blow-up pool and spent nearly every night after work splashing with my little guy. I had three solid black bathing suits in rotation, none of which fit me amazingly, and I didn't give a hoot. It was blissful. We splashed, we snuggled, I partook in adult beverages occasionally, and it was genuinely highlight in an otherwise terrible year.
Flash forward to summer 2021 and being faced with the opportunity to go to a big community pool — it started out as significantly less blissful.
We got the invite to go to my sister-in-law's community pool, and my son talked about nothing else for the three days leading up to it.
To say he was excited was an understatement. When pool day finally arrived, my son bounced around the house, "calling" his aunt to tell her we were on the way, and generally bursting at the seams with joy.
I, however, was less excited. I hadn't exactly prepped for pool season, because while I do have my insecurities, I believe the only requirement to having a beach body is just having a body. But that doesn't mean I wasn't feeling a bit sheepish about those three suits I had in rotation last year when it came time for people outside my small family to see me.
I stood in front of my bedroom mirror for at least an hour debating on which suit to wear.
In everything I owned, I picked myself apart. One suit highlighted my mommy pooch too much. Another made my butt too flat. The third was "too booby." I agonized over it. After displaying an insane amount of patience, my son finally broke.
"MOMMY, what are you doing?! Let's goooooooo," he wailed.
There was something in the hitch of his tantrum that sort of knocked me back to reality.
What was I doing?
I just wasted an hour of pool time. Obsessing over the way my body hung in a bathing suit? What a waste of perfectly great swimming time.
To my son, that hour likely felt like an eternity, and when it comes down to it, how I look in a bathing suit means literally nothing to him. He doesn't see doughy thighs and jiggly arms. He sees legs that will help him run to the pool and arms that will playfully splash him. What else should I worry about?
Unsurprisingly, we arrived at the pool with very little fanfare, other than a very excited niece and nephew.
There was no movie-like record scratch where everyone turned around to point at the fat mama in the booby swimsuit. In fact, there was not even so much as a lingering glance. My arrival at the pool was not the topic of whispers or anything (at least to my knowledge) remotely of interest to anyone. Except my kid's.
My presence at the pool really mattered when my son joyously squirted me with a water gun and laughed so hard he fell over. It mattered when my niece squealed with delight when I twirled her in the water. It mattered when my sister-in-law hugged me hello and told me how happy she was we could make it.
Honestly mama, just wear the suit.
Wear the bathing suit that makes you comfortable, and gets you out there with the kids. If swiping on lipstick or adding a coverup helps, you do you. The point is, just get out there. The kids will never remember what you looked like in your suit. They'll remember you laughing and playing and making it the best summer ever by just being there.
Just, wear the suit.
