I went to the YMCA today with the kids. I've avoided getting into the pool for months because the only bathing suit I own is a black Speedo that accentuates all the wrong parts of my body. Additionally, the last time I wore it it was horribly tight and a little girl accused me of being pregnant. Wow! To say I hate that suit is an understatement. Today however, I chose to overcome myself in order to play with Koen in the pool and have some "us" time. I was excited to share those moments with him.
Having gone through bootcamp, I was able to get over being naked in front other others since we regularly changed and showered with other girls. Living in Japan as well offered opportunities to spend time at various onsen, which are public bath houses where naked is the rule and not the exception. The onsen are segregated, so it can be likened unto a tropical, steamy spa full of women lounging in hot tubs, steam rooms, and stone beds in their birthday suits. Suffice it to say that I'm really over the naked thing, though I don't go out of my way to show off what my Mama gave me.
I changed in the bathroom stall since I had consumed a lot of water in the hour before hitting the pool and frankly I needed to be in there anyway. :) I was pleasantly surprised that my bathing suit is fitting much nicer after losing 20 pounds. It's amazing what those 20 little boogers can do for a person - or not do, depending on where you are. It was great to feel that difference. My weight loss efforts are paying dividends.
After spending time in both the pool and the hot tub, I headed back into the locker room to peel out of my suit. Where an hour before there had not been more than a few people in the room, suddenly there wasn't a private spot to be had. As I stood there contemplating changing my clothes, it occurred to me that I was feeling anxious. It made me pause. I'm not accustomed to feeling nervous in this type of scenario. I wondered what lay at the root of my sudden modesty. It didn't take long to realize that I was concerned about someone seeing my breasts.
My breasts look like road maps now with long scars that wrap around toward my back. They are slightly misshapen because of my recent surgery and I don't have any nipples. As I was pondering my own feelings about revealing my body in front of strangers, a little girl walked in. She looked squarely at me, as had several other people. I thought, "What if this little girl stares at me with question marks in her eyes?" What if others notice as well. Will the obviously missing nipples create a discomfort in them that would be awkward? Would they stare? If so, would I want to say something to set them (or myself) at ease? I came to the conclusion that I wasn't ready to tackle that possibility. It's not that I'm uncomfortable to talk about it or even to show another woman who wants to see the scars. In that moment though I couldn't tell how much of me was hiding, versus simply wanting to spare others the awkwardness and questions.
I don't ever want to avoid the discussion. I guess I just want to do it with the right timing so that the impact on others is positive, not confusing. I would never want to be the scary woman with no nipples.
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