I'll go ahead and warn you, females, this may attack every insecure bone in your being. It did me.
Growing up as a female is hard enough. I mean the hair and the make-up, wearing the right clothes, being the right shape, hating the number on the scale, and worst of all, the constant comparing of yourself to those other 'people', either classmates or celebrities. It doesn't matter. It's a constant wrench of the heart.
If you are a female and have never felt a little insecurity about your appearance I would either call you arrogant or blessed. It seems to have plagued us all at one point in time or another. I know it has me, more often than not.
So fast forward out of high school some to 2008 when I became pregnant with Bryton. Don't get me wrong, I was excited for a baby, and even excited for the 6 month baby bump, but I had heard horror stories about what the post baby body would look like and how it would 'perform'. I was a little less than stoked.
Checking my tummy out wasn't the first thing I did after Bryton was born, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it. I was.
Two years past that, now, I have to admit, I think I was lucky coming out of the hospital looking like I did after Bryton was born. I don't expect it to be like that after round number two, that's for sure. But regardless of how I came out, I did suffer, shortly, with a deep sense of mourning my old 'self'. My flat tummy, with my tiny belly button and no stupid line (which I still have by the way, 18 months later). Now, the most evidence of my pregnancy is that line and a much larger belly button, not to mention a small evidence of a 'baby' bump that can easily be 'sucked in' if need be. I don't suck very often, too much work. Lol.
So all of that being said, we took a trip to Holiday World the other day. (I know, right, how are these related?) The relation comes in the waterpark, in a swimsuit, with 1,000 other females with different bodies, different shapes, and different histories, and me, my line, and my nickle sized belly button. But you know what I didn't find in that waterpark? Insecurity. For the first time ever.
Even in High School waterparks meant constant comparisons, wishing I had her hair and her legs and her boobs. Let's be honest, here. By the time the day was over at that point in my life I was miserable from the constant self bashing I'd faced. I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, or enough period.
This waterpark experience, however, had me paying even more attention to other females. Shapes and sizes and cellulite and odd birthmarks and gray hair, and wrinkles, and less than flat bellies, and you know what, all of the women I saw were beautiful, but not one of us was perfect. No flat stomach, perfect complexion, wonderful shapes to be found. Even the younger ones, 'in their prime' so to speak, had some cellulite on the back of their legs or a little extra around the tummy. Yet they were gorgeous girls. For the first time I felt no need to make any comparisons, and I, honestly, not one time, thought to myself, I wish I could have her _______________ you fill in the blank.
Nope, I love this body. This is the one God gave me. This is the one that carried that precious cargo of mine, and I cherish every evidence of it, silly line and giganto belly button and all.
Don't get me wrong. Female hair loss and spider veins run in my family... so one of these days, God willing, I may spend the vanity money to have those taken care of, but you know what, I don't have to look in the mirror to know that I'm beautiful and created in the image of a beautiful, loving God, who created all those other women in their bathing suits the exact same way.
Where God is, beauty always reigns.