“That’s a skinny mommy” is what A said when he pointed to Green Bronco Mom at preschool drop off, back when he was four years old.
He was right, he was looking at a skinny mommy in her rust colored, body hugging yoga pants and matching sports bra, as opposed to…me, a not so skinny mommy in grey sweatpants and baggy black tee. Wait, does he really notice physical appearances?
On the drive home all I could think about was how A had started calling me “cuddly.” It always gave me the warm fuzzies. And now, in my car, with “That’s a skinny mommy” playing over and over in my head, my warm fuzzies had devolved into feelings of insecurity, wondering if “cuddly” in toddler speak meant “more to love.”
Okay stop, I thought. I know that’s crazy talk. He’s four. He’s making an observation, not a comparison. Noticing that another mom is thin has nothing to do with me. Probably. The only judgement here is mine. But, dammit, I want to be a skinny mommy!
I weighed 126 pounds after giving birth to A, mostly due to a strict diet to keep my gestational diabetes under control. But then there was the pandemic with its lockdown lifestyle (I learned to bake), which was accompanied by my pal Peri. These two factors joined forces to contribute to a twenty-pound weight gain. Yes, twenty pounds in a couple of years.
In late 2022, in an effort to drop the added weight, I purchased a rowing machine and for most of 2023 I was rowing too hard and too frequently (with improper form) for someone who had spent two years living it up lockdown-style. My body couldn’t keep up with my brain’s expectations of it and as a result, in January of this year I sustained an injury that necessitated physical therapy, which I just “graduated” from. I now have the go-ahead from the doc to row again… for five minutes at a time.
And now, here we are. It’s summer 2024, which I had dubbed “Our Summer of Swimming.” A had a nine-day intensive swim class last summer, which was great. But what he learned in those nine days didn’t stick, since we only swam a few more times before fall. So, my husband and I were determined to get him water-safe this summer. To that end, we joined a swim club and signed him up for twice weekly lessons, which started mid-June.
In my mind, A would have the maximum allowed two lessons per week, and I would take him to the club a couple more times each week to really get him comfortable in the water. In preparation, I ordered some new (more accommodating) swimsuits online. Cue the sound of tires screeching to a halt: Screeeeeech!
I put on one of the suits, looked in the mirror, and there it was. Front and center. I mean, I guess I already knew it was there. But given that I was still wearing my pandemic uniform of loose fitting everything, it had never been on display like it was now. I had an honest to goodness belly! I couldn’t even suck it in! It was just…out there. No matter how hard I focused on the core and tried drawing it in and up (former personal trainer here) it just stayed put, except for when I jumped. Then, it jiggled.
Now we’re in late July, and twice a week we go to swim lessons. Afterward, A wants to splash around in the ‘fun pool’. So, I walk from the lesson pool to the fun pool in a cover-up, or with my towel tied at my waist. When we get to the fun pool, I drop my towel and scurry into the water as quickly as I can, leaving him in my dust. Once I’m in the water up to my chest I exhale and smile and call for A to “Come in! Let’s play!” And when we’re finished playing, I make sure he’s out of the pool safely, then I race to cover up with my towel, hoping no one was looking. It’s exhausting. I hate that I’m so self-conscious. I hate that I both love and dread taking A to the swim club. And I especially hate that I don’t take him there on days he doesn’t have lessons.
So, starting this week, I’m challenging myself to change that. After all, A is not going to look back on this summer and remember his mama’s tummy. If I can get my ego in check, what we’ll both remember is that I took him to the swim club and that we laughed and played and had the happiest summer. And maybe he’ll even look at me and think, “I have a fun mommy!”
Now, I’m not saying I don’t plan on losing the belly. In fact, that endeavor is underway. What I am saying is that A and I both deserve our “Summer of Swimming,” and I am not going to wait until I get back to my former shape to start enjoying pool days with my son.
How about you? Has ego ever tripped you up or stopped you from enjoying something in your life? Did you do anything about it, or do you hope to? If you feel like sharing, remember, the comment section is a safe space for paid subscribers. Jump in!
And if you are so inclined…