I wore shorts out in public this weekend for the first time since high school.
Before I left the house, I stared in the mirror. I agonized. I changed into jeans and then back into shorts.
And then before I could agonize another minute, I left. Wearing those shorts and vowing not to give it another thought.
Why? Because life is too damn short to agonize.
I’m 35 years old. The mom of two kids. My calves have veins. My thighs have jiggle. My butt has cellulite. My stomach has stretch marks. My boobs are a deflated shadow of their perky teenage glory.
When I look in the mirror, that’s what I see. The imperfections. The things I still have to work on. The things that maybe I can’t even change.
But by focusing on what I don’t like, I miss all the things that really matter. I don’t see the strength in those legs that have carried me on so many journeys in this life. I don’t celebrate the memory of growing a life inside me not once but twice. I don’t honor the commitment it took to nourish those babies with my body, breastfeeding them until they were ready to wean.
This summer, I’m just wearing the shorts. And the sundress. And the swimsuit. All the things that still make me feel self-conscious, no matter how far this fitness journey takes me.
I’m channeling my 5-year-old, who routinely rolls his pants — or his shorts — alllllll the way up so you can almost see his underwear because he’s too warm otherwise and he’s too young to care what other people think. He radiates self-confidence because he doesn’t know there’s anything else to be.
I know someday my boys will care what other people think. They’ll make decisions based on peer pressure instead of what makes them feel good. They’ll change themselves according to other people’s expectations, maybe even hide parts of themselves to fit in.
It crushes me to think about that day coming.
So this weekend I wore the shorts. This summer, I’ll wear that swimsuit. And I’ll hope that my boys see me comfortable in my own skin and confident in who I am so that they’ll do the same for as long as they possibly can.
Today I’m embracing the jiggle, celebrating the stretch marks — and reveling in the freedom of letting go. Life is too damn short to agonize.
