My family and I have spent many summers at the beach. If you know anything about me, you know it's my favorite place to be. When you sink your toes in that warm, white sand, and feel the sun and salty breeze on your skin, your troubles start to fade away. Down there, vacationers all gather together in a place where not many people know your name. You aren't your profession or status in life. You aren't some tragedy or sad story others know far too much about. Anonymity is a beautiful thing, especially at the beach.
I am a people watcher. All my life, I've studied people from afar. I like to try to figure out (or create) their personal stories. I watch them interact with their family and friends. I've learned a lot about human behavior and body images from watching total strangers at the beach over the years.
There are the babies and children who haven't a care in the world. Playing and laughing, knowing their caretakers are right there to protect them from any harm that they really had no clue even existed. Wearing such adorable little ruffled and monogrammed swim suits their mothers had eagerly picked out just for them.
Their parents, so proud and excited, taking pictures and making precious memories of their beach babies.
New Mamas struggling to fit back into last year's small swim suits or wearing their new, "mother-appropriate" larger ones.
The nearby couples, watching all the fun, who are unknowingly struggling for that perfect family and babies of their own. Those women would proudly wear anything if it meant holding a baby in their arms.
The teenage girls, with flawless, young bodies, in their tiny bikinis and the teenage boys studying their every intentional move and flip of their hair.
Also, the awkward ones who don't fit that perfect body image and who are anything but carefree. Their swim suit of choice covers much more and took incredible courage to even put on.
For many, what you wear to the beach isn't calculated. It's simply a necessity for the elements. Swims easily, tans well, keeps you cool...check. For others, it's something planned for year-round. Grueling body workouts, shopping and mental anguish.
Secretly, I always wondered most about the attractive, thin women in one-piece swim suits. Clearly, they have a great figure. It's 100 degrees outside and those suits can be stifling. Why aren't they in a bikini? What are they covering up?
Never, until now, have I considered that--while physical reasons (scars, tattoos, stretch marks, not perfectly-toned tummies) are usually the culprit--there may be deep emotional wounds behind it all. I know all of this personally now.
A scar is usually an outward reminder of an internal injury to the body. It's somewhat visible. What happened--the actual injury--is what holds the emotions. Maybe there was a life-altering surgery (childbirth, reproductive surgery, broken bones or cancer). Maybe a car wreck or accident was the cause. In any case, unless you're a young boy, few people like scars or other alterations to their bodies and lives they did not want or expect.
People have dreams and plans for their lives. Just like a house with a white picket fence is a perfect image for some, a flawless, well-outfitted body and family is for others. While body image may not mean much to you, it definitely does to others.
I know for me, sitting on the beach in a one-piece swim suit (for the first time since I was a very young girl) has had a huge impact on me emotionally. I am covering things that many have no clue about, both physical and emotional...internal and external. Somehow, beyond all the surface-level issues, this swim suit feels more like a bandage for my heart than a cover-up for my body. I can only imagine that others may feel this way too.
The swim suit I am referring to is as much a metaphor as it is a real thing.
Remember, everyone has a story and each of us fights our own inner battle. Don't judge a book by its cover or a beach body by it's swim suit.
LOVEđź’™
