It was one of those chaotic mornings. My hands were full, balancing a stack of plastic bags loaded with sandwiches, apple slices, and milk cartons. I fumbled with my bag’s zipper, trying to get my wallet out. My daughter spun around me in circles, tugging at the flowing fabric of my dress with each pass. Meanwhile, my husband wrestled with our squirmy preschooler, who was determined to snatch his dad’s hat. I finally managed to shoo them to the car so we could buckle up for our beach day.
As I slid my credit card across the counter, I locked eyes with the cashier, who then said, “More little ones on the way, huh?”
I froze, a wave of discomfort washing over me as I felt a familiar knot of anxiety starting to churn in my stomach. I tightened my grip on the bags and replied, “Pardon me?”
“You’re expecting, right?”
A glance to the side must have conveyed my disbelief because she quickly launched into a stream of “I’m sorrys” while I awkwardly stuffed every condiment and straw I didn’t need into my bag, desperate to escape the moment. Disheveled and conscious of the line forming behind me, all I could manage was a half-hearted “Sorry you said that too.”
In my hasty retreat, I completely forgot napkins. I hopped into the front seat, stared blankly ahead, and once buckled, leaned into my husband and whispered what had just occurred.
Was it the dress? I had just bought it and loved it. Was it my still slightly rounded belly that once housed my babies? Or was it simply the cashier’s lack of small talk skills?
Rolling down the window, I let the warm air fill the car. My kids were back there, ready for the beach, happily munching their lunch. Sure, it would have been easy to spiral into self-doubt, to start questioning my body, tallying my workouts for the month, or plotting a crash diet. Instead, I chose the harder route, the one that required more energy and positivity: I decided to embrace my day and love my body.
I refuse to let your thoughtless remarks ruin my time with my kids.
When we arrived at the beach, I had a blast with my little ones. We constructed an epic sandcastle complete with a moat and splashed around in the waves. At one point, a woman approached me, complimenting my swimsuit and asking where I got it. So, here I am—both hurt and happy, but moving forward. This moment is a step, albeit a challenging one, in my journey to body acceptance. In the past, that comment would have sent me spiraling into a dark pit of self-loathing. But today, I chose to move on.
Let’s get something straight: talking about my body is not your go-to small talk. Instead, how about you ask me about my kids, my current read, my dream vacation, or my weekend plans? Please, let’s ditch the body chatter; it’s a struggle enough to embrace self-love without your unwarranted commentary.
The road to self-acceptance is long and winding. It may start with putting on your swimsuit, but remember, it’s not just about that. There will be hurdles and hurtful comments along the way, and you’ll often face the tough choice of moving on.
This article was initially published on August 18, 2016, and serves as a reminder that we all have our battles.
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Summary: In a chaotic moment at the store, Jamie experiences an uncomfortable comment about her body that prompts her to reflect on self-acceptance and the importance of positive self-talk. Despite the initial hurt, she chooses to embrace her body and enjoy time with her family at the beach, reminding readers that conversations about bodies should be avoided in favor of more meaningful topics.