Dear 40-Year-Old Me
You have small breasts, but you went to that pool party in a G-string bikini. And although you felt bashful and kept your butt to the wall, you still wore it. The butt we have today is way too bashful to expose itself to sunlight. Any light, for that matter.
But I do still love to swim, and my current swimsuit made me look as if I have a penis and a load in my pants. Thus, earlier today, I forced myself to perform that dreaded act: swimsuit shopping.
All I wanted was a simple Speedo. Having no idea of my size, I grabbed a few suits off the rack and headed for the dressing room of doom.
My plan was to accomplish this task in a hurry. Clothes off. Suit on. If it fit, I would be good to go.
I was in the dressing room, bent over, wiggling my leg into the bathing suit bottom, my butt facing the mirror, when the alarm went off. A loud, consistent buzz. Over and over and over. I quickly pulled up the suit and looked into the corners of the dressing room. Was I not supposed to be in here? Were my jiggly buns that offensive? Was the butt patrol going to barge in and arrest me?
No alarms went off that day you wore the G-string, because you really did look fabulous, even if you didn’t believe it.
After several confused minutes, I realized the sound was coming from my phone. It was an Amber alert, and although I felt quite bad for the victim, I was relieved my bent over position hadn’t shocked someone into a heart attack.
Not taking any more chances, I hurriedly put on my clothes, bought the suit and left the store.
This suit is not nearly as sexy as the one you wore to that pool party. But the fact is, I’m still wearing a bathing suit. And if I could do it over again, I would have moved around on that deck, showing off how good I looked.
I want you to be proud of your body. Sure, it’s going to feel the effects of gravity with a droop here and a drop there. But it’s also going to dance at weddings, paddleboard in Mexico, ride quads on the beach, scream down treacherous water slides, hike mountains, substitute as a pillow, carry tired children and spin inside a pool of laughter.
There will be days when it drags out of bed and others when it never wants the day to end.
Believe me, I know it’s not a perfect body. But it’s yours. And it fits you perfectly.
Make no “buts” about it.
This article was originally published on