There is just something about the ocean that tempts us to return to its shore. The moist air caresses our skin, and the ocean water dries in our hair, leaving behind its salty residue. The sound of the pounding surf is music to our ears, and the call of the seagulls adds to the symphony of the sea. Discovering the perfect sand dollar or sea shell brings us to a place of childish delight. The feel of the moist sand under our bare feet invokes the tender feelings for all things summer. As the air fills our nostrils, it is almost possible to taste the essence of summertime.
It’s easy to see who catches eyes on the beach: the firm, toned, youthful bodies, strolling confidently along the shore.
But do you know who I love seeing there? The rest of us.
The bikini-clad grandma soaking in the sun, the young mother hiding her soft belly under a t-shirt laughing with her baby in the frothy waves, the middle-aged girlfriends talking and walking at the edge of the water, the grinning mom and her sun-kissed children, body-surfing into the shore.
|Myrtle Beach 2009 with my little sister.|
If we leave life's adventures to the hard bodies and the young, we have no one to blame but ourselves when we come to the end of our lives with regret. We’ll always wonder about the chances not taken, the roads not traveled, the destinations unseen. Life was meant to be lived by all of us, even the rest of us.
When my children were little, I made a promise to myself that I would not be the mom who stayed at home because I didn't look good in a bathing suit.
Even when I was shopping the PLUS-SIZE DEPARTMENTof stores like Lane Bryant, I bought a swimsuit every summer. There were moments of hesitation as I struggled into my Lycra maillot, and envisioned myself lumbering to the edge of the pool...or beach...or water park. I swallowed my pride, and determined to build memories with my babies. I never regretted those times with my family.
There are even pictures (gasp) of our vacations together. me, in all my glory, grinning at the camera, surrounded by the people I love most. There is something about those memories that allows me to see the smiles and laughter, not my weight. The numbers on the scale, and the tag inside the swimsuit, somehow don't matter.
What adventure beckons to you? Where does your heart long to go? What memory of long ago begs to be revisited?
Rekindle the flame inside of you. Find your passion. Follow your heart. Inspire the rest of us. We’re cheering for you as we discover our own courage and joy.