Hey moms, put on your goddamn bathing suit already…

Mari and I fucking rocking our bikinis, ya’ll!

It’s a million 90 degrees in Seattle, which is miserably hot because we are simply not equipped for such heatwaves. And so I’ve been spending a shit-ton (real unit of measurement) in my polka dot bikini that I FREAKING LOVE. But with this heat wave, I have also noticed an uptick in stories online about moms and bathing suits and not taking pictures of themselves with their kids because body shame. Literally Google bikini and mom and you will get news stories (don’t get me started on what constitutes NEWS anymore) about women who went in public in bathing suits and literally nothing happened. Yeah, they didn’t implode. Nobody threw eggs on them. Wow, maybe even their kids had a good time with mom for once instead of begging her to leave the lounge chair hidden in the back corner of the pool deck.

I don’t get it. I mean, as a therapist I get it, right, conditioning and stories we tell ourselves and upbringing and a culture of shame. But, in my opinion, if we just strut confidently in the direction we want to go then we will eventually get there. If I overanalyzed every step I took, worrying that my thighs touched too much and that I don’t look like I did in 10th grade pre-babies, I would be a nervous wreck. And my kid would probably drown in the pool because I wasn’t paying attention to teaching him to swim instead of picking apart every little thing that could possibly be wrong with my body.

Just a few weeks ago I was the ONLY mom in Lake Washington with Potamus. All the other self conscious or ill prepared moms were rolling up their jeans and trying to wade around in the mucky water with their toddlers who were filled with GLEE that they were in WATER! And dads. There were dads in the water with their kids, wearing awkward basketball shorts to drag their kid around on an inner tube. And one mom told me, “you’re so brave,” and I was basically flabbergasted because, “huh?” It’s fucking hot lady, why are you wearing jeans in the lake? It’s fucking hot, so put on your goddamn bathing suit and get outside and play in the sprinkler, mmkay? Once you’ve done that, then take it one step further and go to the pool or the lake or the beach and get in the water with them. I promise you’ll be the envy of those hiding in the shadows.

My Body as Public Property

Yesterday I had lunch with my co-teacher, and I was bitching about the lame pasta salad the cafeteria was offering and he said, “yeah, you’ll probably need something more than that with all your hot yoga,” and I replied with “I know man, I can’t believe it, I’ve lost 30lbs doing hot yoga.” His response shocked me, as he said:

I know. You can tell. Bethany (my friend and co-worker) and I were talking about it the other day. You look good.

There was nothing weird about his statement, though it did catch me off guard. Because I spend a lot of time in my head, I rarely even notice that I have a body. And after 31 years of life as a woman, I have rarely had moments of body image issues (related to weight, because I’ve certainly had insecurities about my height). I don’t hate my body because a) it’s super functional (carrying my brain to and fro is a necessity) and b) it brings me quite a lot of pleasure. It wasn’t until I was pregnant, though, that I really started to notice how my physical body was suddenly on the public stage. Grannies and co-workers and grocery store clerks all had some comment, ranging from “oh, you don’t look pregnant,” to “oh, you’re having a boy,” to any number of other random things. Fortunately nobody touched me, but I for that I blame my 6’1 frame and badass-I-will-cut-you-if-you-come-too-close attitude.

So here I am, a regular practitioner of bikram yoga, 30lbs lighter (yay, I’ve lost the baby weight finally! and actually weighing less than I did at my wedding), and I’m suddenly…doubting myself? Feeling anxious? Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin? Not exactly. Even Boof has noticed, that the regular yoga practice has only increased my confidence level. I feel more in control tune with my body. I feel strong, and flexible, and sexy. And I’m not even focusing on weight.

But.

But.

As someone with an anxiety disorder, I worry. A LOT. And I’m starting to worry about things like:

What if I really like being thin and then I gain weight? And then I start feeling bad about myself for gaining weight? And then I develop an eating disorder?

Yeah, my brain works like that.

But it is an interesting experience suddenly being more in the public eye with how I look. I look back at pictures and I can’t really see much of a difference, though overall 30lbs is quite a lot of weight actually, and think I looked fine before, but definitely feel more fine now. Does that make sense?

 

 

Zen Pen Invitation

Last year I had the privilege of meeting in the home of Courtney Putnam, my wonderful massage therapist/reiki practitioner. Not only is she an amazing, healing, bodyworker (is that even a word?), but she is also an amazing artist and writer (and blogger!). All last summer she hosted a weekly “Zen Pen” group, where we met and wrote together. She has this amazing way of guiding, creating prompts, and giving opportunity for writers to get outside of their ‘head’ and write from their body. She says:

What’s different about ZenPen is that it is body-based. What that means is that during the writing process, we will tap into the wisdom of our bodies. Our minds can only get us so far — and sometimes our minds play tricks on us or lead us down roads of self-criticism or limitation. The body holds all the information, wisdom, and experiences we’ve had in our lives. It plays no tricks. It tells us the truth.

And this year Zen Pen is being offered as an e-course! I am excited to being (August 5th) her 6 week series, and am planning on sharing, here, some of the body writing that I create. But, since I love you all dearly, I am inviting you to participate as well! For only $59 for the 6 week Zen Pen E-Course, how could you resist? So, if you’ve been looking for some inspiration in your writing process, and want to get away from that critical voice, then join me in ushering in the fall with a little Zen Pen! Head on over to the e-course description to get a better understanding of what is being offered!!

I have to be honest, I’m both excited and nervous about the discoveries I’ll have in this 6 week course. Last summer I learned so much about myself, my hopes, dreams, and really solidified some truths that I hadn’t been able to grasp with my anxious mind. Can’t wait to start, and hopefully see a bunch of YOU all over on the secret FB group or here in blog-land 🙂

Bread Dough Breathing

Today was big for me. As much as I’ve crowed about my pretty good body image, even flaunting my adorbz swimsuit in the great Pacific Ocean, I have yet to go to hot yoga in shorts and a sports bra. The room is full of hairy-backed middle aged men, gumby tanned women who have, after class, proudly proclaimed their excitement to go home and eat a salad (true story), and a wide range of others, including a diminutive blonde with amazing dreadlocks and a girl who wore a sweatshirt around her waist the entire workout (wtf?). Almost everyone is stripped down to their bare necessities, but there has been one thing I haven’t seen: pale postpartum belly flab.

I was nervous in the locker room. I had brought a safety tank-top that I could throw on if I needed, but I decided to be tittsey and just GO FOR IT. So, there I was, sweating alongside Sasquatch (seriously) and ashram-goddess-reincarnate. I could see my bare belly in the mirror, but from the distance it looked different than I’ve seen it before. My stretch marks swayed side to side, back and forth, in ardha chandrasana and sweat rolled down.

And, as we were lying in shavasana, the teacher instructed us to belly breathe. And I noticed this image in my mind, of my soft, white, doughy belly rising and falling…like bread dough. In the heat, dough rises, you punch it down, and it rises again. Takes the whole ‘bun-in-the-oven’ metaphor in a different direction. Rising, falling, baking in the warm room. Bread-dough belly breathing.

Bathing Suit Body

Bathing suit season is upon us. It’s a time that many women dread, as it comes unexpectedly (after a few cold spring months were they vow to do a few more crunches to get ready) and then one day it’s here. But, to be honest, bathing suit season has never really bothered me in the body-image sense. My love of being in the water, of being in a swimsuit to SWIM, that I never paid much attention to any nagging voices that might persuade me that I would not be good enough to wear that swimsuit this year.

But, as I’ve gotten older, and spent more time around women with significant body image issues, I find myself slowly analyzing my body. Post-baby, with 20lbs still lingering on an already-too-big-frame (according to the magical medical science BMI standard), it’s been a little rocky to try and think “hmm, maybe I will stay a size 18, instead of getting back to the 14/16…how would that feel?” and the fear that another baby will make me balloon even more.

But, I’ve got to be honest. The ocean calls. And my love of being in a swimsuit (I used to own 17…as I was a lifeguard and swim instructor for 5 years!) has outweighed my tiny nagging doubts about my ability to pull of a bathing suit in public. There are blogs and articles talking about mothers not being in the picture, and I think that’s selfish of mothers…get out there, get in the action, even if your slightly bigger saddle-bag thighs are out there in the picture, too. Because, to be honest, I think my 85% adventurous spirit is outweighing the 15% of nagging body fears, and nobody really gives a damn about it, but me. Right? I mean, I’ve never gotten a negative comment about “flaunting” my white fleshy legs out in public…

So here I am, soaking up the sunshine on the Oregon Coast, spending a good twenty minutes out in the water wave jumping by myself. My body felt strong, not perfect, but able to carry myself out into the water and I had the biggest smile on my face ever. And, even when I realized that I would have to walk back to the campsite in my bathing suit, sans towel (Potamus stole that towel, little bugger), I was okay. Because so what if people notice my bigger-than-normal white thighs…I mean…they need to tan sometimes, ammiright?

So, are you going to rock your bathing suit body this summer season?