I have a confession to make.
Sometimes it's easier to know what to do than to actually do it.
Case in point: body image.
Last summer, I was talking with a group of friends and told them, "It's finally happened.
I've become one of those women who wear a skirty bathing suit bottom.
" Dismayed, these friends (all of whom are younger than I and in terrific shape) informed me that I had to take the skirty bottom back to the store.
That I was absolutely not allowed to think my thighs were jiggly or that covering them up was essential.
One of my friends even said, "Mindy, just own it.
It doesn't matter how big you are, as long as you own it.
If you feel large, be large and in charge, and no one will even notice what you think are your jiggly thighs.
" This made complete sense to me.
As a matter of fact, it sounded like the kind of advice I would give.
There was only one problem: I couldn't own it.
I didn't feel good, and I didn't know how to pretend otherwise.
I wore the skirty bottom all summer.
Quick interruption in the interest of full-disclosure.
I am not obese or even much overweight.
I'm just about the right weight for my vertically-challenged frame, and I'm satisfied that I generally eat well and am healthy.
But even so, like many (most?) women, there are things about my body I would change if I could.
I thought about all this over the winter, and wondered why women did this to themselves.
At the same time, I began adding some strength training to my exercise routine, which made me stronger and helped me to feel good from the inside.
Maybe I was starting to "own" it? Not so fast...
When I went shopping for a bathing suit in the spring, all sorts of insecurities came crawling back.
Whoever thought fluorescent lights in dressing rooms was a good idea, anyway? I finally ordered a bathing suit online and was pleased to be able to order the tops and bottoms separately.
So, I got a skirty bottom, but I also got a regular bikini bottom.
Gulp.
I wasn't quite brave enough to wear the bikini the first couple of times I went to the beach, and I spent a long time in my beach chair contemplating that.
Here are a couple of things I came up with that have helped tremendously when dealing with my own body image issues.
I hope they help you, too.
First of all, while I was sitting on the beach, watching folks come and go, I came to a realization: no one looks like a bathing suit model.
No one.
Not the high schoolers, not the weight-lifters, no one.
It occurred to me that women are supposed to have curves.
Hmm.
Maybe if we all just recognized the fact that we're all in this together, we wouldn't compare ourselves to super-models and to each other, and we'd spend that wasted energy doing something productive that made us feel great.
Hmm.
Second, I looked at the men on the beach.
Now, male Reflections readers, correct me if I'm wrong, but the men I saw were clearly NOT agonizing over their body images.
Lots of rolls, lots of guts, and I say, bully for them! At least they're not wasting precious brain cells thinking about cellulite.
The thing that really propelled me into a different space around my feelings about my body, though, was a photo I saw of myself when I was 22.
I was lovely, young and strong, but I was wearing long shorts, covering up what I then thought were my jiggly thighs.
They weren't jiggly at all, though.
They were strong and flexible, and got me where I needed to go.
I'm now 44, and unlike Dana Torres, my body can't do all the things it could do at 22.
It takes me a little longer to get going in the morning, and a little longer to recover from a wild and crazy night out.
I don't say this to complain.
I say it because I realized that in a flash of an eye, I'm going to be 66, and then 88.
And I'm going to look back at photos of my 44-year-old self and wonder why I didn't appreciate every single cell of my body every single day.
You guessed it.
I have now worn the bikini to the beach, as well as the skirty bottom.
And I keep reminding myself that I am strong and vibrant and wonderful.
I saw a bumper sticker that summed this up beautifully.
It said, "Start a Revolution.
Love Your Body.
" See you at the beach.