When I was in my 40s, I lost 60 pounds. While I've never been more proud of my body than I am today, here’s the thing: I don’t have a six-pack. I have some extra fluff around my midsection. At the ripe old age of 47, should I wear a one-piece? Some might say so. I disagree.
A few weeks ago, I pulled on my brand-new string bikini and was pleasantly surprised by the reflection in my bathroom mirror. I couldn't believe how good I looked. Although I was just heading to my local pool, I quickly started fantasized about heading to Greece and sipping margaritas on the beach while I watched the cobalt blue waves roll in. I may not have rock-hard abs, but I’ve worked long and hard for this. I look great, I thought to myself.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror is very different from prancing around the pool in front of strangers, though. My confidence turned to self-criticism quickly as I compared myself to other women. Dangerous territory, I know! Suddenly I was focusing on the cellulite and stretch marks as I picked out my lounge chair, trying hard to ignore the roll of fat covering up my abdominal muscles as I took off my coverup and sat down. What were you thinking, Samantha?
Intellectually, it seems absurd I’m so critical of my healthy, fit body. So in that moment, I decide to tell my self-sabotaging voice to shut up.