My Pink Check Bathing Suit
I went bathing suit shopping last week. I ended up with the cutest pink check suit that makes me feel so very pretty. The bottoms are high waisted, coming up to what is a woman’s actual waist. This is complicated for those of us raised on low-rise jeans. If you are wondering what your waist is, dear millennial, google it. Such a shame our generation had to live with low-rise jeans all those years. We are truly survivors.
The swimsuit top is darling, still pink check, with ruffle sleeves and a cute gold clip. I almost didn’t try it on because I felt the ruffles wouldn’t do well with my arms (I am always thinking about my arms) but turns out it was just what they needed.
My girls sat in the dressing room, and we all decided we loved it, and it should come home with us. I have no pool to go to soon. Nor a beach. But if you find a good bathing suit, you buy it. Am I right?
On top of this extremely delightful outing, it bears sharing I recently called my sister letting her know how yucky I had been feeling in my own skin. Not really knowing why because I was still moving my body and eating well(ish). But I felt gross and for me this is complicated. Mostly because my relationship with my body has been complicated, to say the least.
Maybe it was the Christian counselor at summer camp who told me my shirt was too tight, instantly shaming me and inviting me to wear something much looser because I wasn’t helping my Christian brothers. Got it. Message clearly communicated. Hide your body. It is too tempting.
Maybe it was the ballerinas I stood alongside for most of my upbringing. Mirrors hung like wallpaper on every wall. Worth-based performance became a neuropathway, speed limit none. Hushed conversations about “don’t eat that” happened more than I dare admit. Be thin. Be beautiful. Got it. Message communicated. Make your body beautiful. Your worth depends on it.
Maybe it was the women whispering as I served as a pastor’s wife. “She spends too much money on clothes.” Not one asking how I could count the quarters up at Aldi because I knew exactly what everything cost so we could afford groceries. Nor did anyone ask if I had received anything as a gift, coming from an incredible mom who loved lavishing us with beautiful things. Instead, it was ridicule. Got it. Message communicated. Don’t care too much about what you look like. People will talk.
It's no wonder I, along with many women, have a deeply complicated relationship with our bodies. There are too many voices telling us what our bodies should look like and how we should treat them.
So what about my body? What does God say?
God says He would build my body from the dust and he would uniquely wire me with good work for His kingdom.
Our bodies are certainly more than beauty, more than bathing suits and more than the next trend. But they are also not omitted from longing for beauty or confidence. It is good for us to know the difference.
That pink check bathing suit made me feel beautiful. Maybe it was the ruffles or the high waist. I’m not sure and I don’t think it really matters. But my body isn’t bad, it’s beautiful and I can honor God and myself in pink ruffles, while also serving the Kingdom of God. They aren’t at odds, in fact, beauty is a language of God.
Question to think through and chat through with a friend: How do you experience your body? How does God’s language of beauty match the language you speak over yourself?