Frequently, people inquire, “What insights did you gain from your battle with cancer?” Reflecting on this is challenging; how do I encapsulate the myriad lessons learned even during the waiting periods? How do I articulate the trust I placed in doctors, nurses, God, my family, and friends? More importantly, how do I convey the transformative lens through which I now view the world? If I had to distill it into a single directive, it would be this: Wear the damn swimsuit.
At 13, I donned my first genuine bikini—a blue and white gingham piece adorned with a cheerful yellow daisy. I was thrilled, feeling that the padding might grant me a bit more of a bust than I actually had. However, that excitement quickly faded as I saw my friends in their swimsuits, and my confidence plummeted. At just 13, I began to feel that my body was somehow lacking.
By 17, I finally developed some curves, but they manifested in ways I hadn’t anticipated—my hips settled on my thighs and waist, far from the idealized version I had envisioned. This led to nearly a decade of avoiding shorts. Throughout my late teens and into my late twenties, I preferred to cover up in jeans, skirts, or dresses during the summer. I loathed my body and would rather endure sweltering heat than expose what I perceived as flaws.
During my pregnancies, I felt genuinely beautiful, carrying life within me. I embraced my body’s changes and didn’t compare myself to anyone else, reveling in the miracle of growth. However, after the births, my body continued to fluctuate, and the dread of swimsuit season returned. Every year, I dreaded revealing my thighs and stomach beside others.
I’ve experienced periods of being “fit and healthy” and times of being “sick and skinny.” Yet, I found myself fearing the swimsuit more than the real challenges life presented. Cancer shattered my body and reshaped my identity, leaving me wondering if I would recognize myself again.
What did I miss because I refused to wear the damn swimsuit? Why did I feel more anxiety about donning a swimsuit than I did when I jumped out of a plane? The truth is, in my 35 years, I have never felt entirely “comfortable” in a swimsuit, which means I was holding myself back. I compared my legs, my stomach, and my backside, and it was time to let that go. If I wanted to fully engage in life, I needed to embrace the moment.
So here’s what I learned from my cancer experience: Wear the damn swimsuit. If you want to join in on the fun, splash around with kids, soak up the sun, and not worry about getting wet or how your body looks—just wear it. But beyond the swimsuit, this lesson extends to so much more.
Live life fully: Eat the donut. Dance like no one’s watching. Sing your heart out in the shower or car. Go for an evening jog as the sun sets. Reach out to someone and simply say thank you. Take a moment to snuggle a little longer, let the dishes wait, and cherish your story—because you’re the only you there is.
Explore the world, whether it’s your neighborhood or a distant land. Discover your roots and honor those who came before you. Sing in church, pray for someone you’ve never met, and love deeply. Cook your favorite meal or find the perfect place that serves it. Devour books you love without guilt for the chores left undone.
Relive your childhood by watching your favorite movies. Lie in the grass and let your puppy playfully jump on you. Look up at the vast sky, and appreciate the greater universe around you. Surround yourself with those who evoke laughter, tears, and genuine feelings; they are your true companions.
Take risks—do a cannonball into a pool or try skinny dipping. Experience nature by milking a goat, touching a snake, or catching fireflies. Create a workspace that reflects your essence, whether it’s a plant, a lamp, or a cherished candle. Embrace novelty, whether it’s crimping your hair or switching deodorants.
Try golfing, tap dancing, or sign up for a 5k. Savor fresh, bold flavors and enjoy the sweat from running or dancing. Connect with others: hold hands, share coffee, and cherish human connections. When fear arises, step off the sidelines and dive in.
Live each day, whatever that means for you. Shine your light and cut through any darkness. Life is fleeting—make the most of it. Wear the damn swimsuit.
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Summary
The journey through cancer taught me invaluable lessons about embracing life and shedding insecurities. The metaphor of wearing a swimsuit symbolizes the importance of fully participating in life’s moments without fear of judgment. I encourage everyone to live boldly, embracing new experiences and connections, while recognizing that life is too short to hold back.