I just can’t stop looking her way. I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t help it. Of every bikini-clad woman that has walked by me on this crowded beach, something about her just keeps drawing me in. I’m mesmerized. I’m confused. I’m ENVIOUS.
I get up and go for a walk to try to sort through the emotions that this woman has unknowingly stirred up. I’ve seriously never been one to care too much about how I look in a swimsuit, and certainly not one to judge how others do.
I faced some hard truths.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a body confident person. I wasn’t when I was a competitive athlete, with a solid four pack (never worked hard enough on the elusive lower two) and had the jiggle-free thighs that 20 years of soccer afforded me. Even then, I always had a skirt or shorts on. And I’m definitely not now, not after nursing four babies and carrying twins that permanently stretched my ribs. Even so…
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