Living east lends itself to not needing a swimsuit for, oh, say seven years.
In that time a lot has happened with the organic structure. Running. Not Running. Eating out a lot. Eating salads. Mashed potatoes 5 days a week. Losing, gainging, losing. GIVING BIRTH. Leftover sagginess I never thought could reside on my body. Hardcore Running. Fit! Aerobics. Chocolate. Winter. winter. winter.
BLAM. we live in california. it's sunny here. a lot. it's getting warm. hot. sweaty. must utilize pool.
During the past decade I have learned to love this skin I am in, no matter the condition. I did not think making a necessary transition to the dreaded one-piece swimsuit would be so shameful.
Some would argue this is in good taste for modesty purposes, given that I am married and a mother.
I, however, insist that it is a sign of giving in to the letting go of the middle section, the allowing of it to be lazy.
The middle section was not given much thought in pre-birthing years. Genes provided me with other areas to target at the gym. The middle section has woefully been neglected as its newly, overbearing needs have snuck up on me too rapidly. This is what it means for me to purchase the one-piecer. The middle section is frowning and asking why I haven't given her more attention prior to this gift of swimable summer.
I am so sorry, middle section. Your signals of overflow have motivated me to run this month. However, I dare not allow you out of the basement to see the sunlight until another summer when I have better prepared you for the swimming pool. I still love you. You are still part of me and we will work together on this. I will empty out that junk food cabinet tomorrow, which has recently grown into 4 shelves. As soon as I finish that last Red Vine.
The teenage girls across the street aren't helping much with the healing process.
Neither are their bikinis.
I think this might be what it will feel like to turn 30.
